SANTA  Ummk  STATE  CO'?p^^  ifMMDV 


CASTLE   DANGEROUS 

APPENDIX,    ETC. 

EARLY   POEMS 

AND 

THE   LAY  OF  THE 
LAST  MINSTREL 

BY 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 

HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,    1913 
BY   HOUGHTON   MIFFLIN   COMPANY 

ALL    RIGHTS    RESERVED 


Ki, «.,...    ijtiiiiSiiAA   omit.   WWt 

CONTENTS 

Castle  Dangerous ix 

appendices,  notes,  and  glossary  ....  295 

General  Appendix  to  The  Waverley  Novels 
i.  table  of  the  waverley  novels  in  their 

chronological  order 315 

ii.  principal  characters  in  the  waverley 

NOVELS 318 

m.  ANIMAL  FAVOURITES 367 


TALES  OF  MY  LANDLORD 
iFourt^  anH  Last  §btvit& 


As  I  stood  by  yon  roofless  tower, 

Where  the  wa'flower  scents  the  dewy  air, 
Where  the  howlet  mourns  in  her  ivy  bower. 

And  tells  the  midnight  moon  her  care; 
The  winds  were  laid,  the  air  was  still, 

The  stars  they  shot  along  the  sky. 
The  fox  was  howling  on  the  hill. 

And  the  distant  echoing  glens  reply. 

Robert  Burns. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 


Ahora  lien,  dijo  el  Cur  a:  traedme,  senor  huisped,  aquesos  libros,  que 
los  quiero  ver.  Que  me  place,  respondid  el;  y  entrando  en  su  aposento, 
saco  del  una  tnaletilla  vieja  cerrada  con  una  cadenilla,  y  abriendola,  halld 
en  ella  tres  libros  grandes  y  unos  papeles  de  muy  buena  leira  escritos  de 
mono. — Don  Quixote,  Parte  I,  Capitulo  32. 

It  is  mighty  well,  said  the  priest:  pray,  landlord,  bring  me  those 
books,  for  I  have  a  mind  to  see  them.  With  all  my  heart,  answered  ths 
host;  and  going  to  his  chamber,  he  brought  out  a  little  old  cloke-bag, 
with  a  padlock  and  chain  to  it,  and  opening  it,  he  took  out  three  large 
volumes,  and  some  manuscript  papers  written  in  a  fine  character.— 
Jarvis's  Translation. 


INTRODUCTION   (1832) 

[The  following  introduction  to  Castle  Dangerous  was  for- 
warded by  Sir  Walter  Scott  from  Naples  in  February,  1832, 
together  with  some  corrections  of  the  text,  and  notes  on 
localities  mentioned  in  the  Novel. 

The  materials  for  the  Introduction  must  have  been  col- 
lected before  he  left  Scotland,  in  September,  1831 ;  but  in  the 
hurry  of  preparing  for  his  voyage  he  had  not  been  able  to 
arrange  them  so  as  to  accompany  the  first  edition  of  this 
Romance. 

A  few  notes,  supplied  by  the  Editor,  are  placed  within 
brackets.] 

The  incidents  on  which  the  ensuing  Novel  mainly  turns 
are  derived  from  the  ancient  metrical  chronicle  of  The 
Bruce,  by  Archdeacon  Barbour,  and  from  The  History  of 
the  Houses  of  Douglas  and  Angus,  by  David  Hume  of 
Godscroft;  and  are  sustained  by  the  immemorial  tradi- 
tion of  the  western  parts  of  Scotland.  They  are  so  much 
in  consonance  with  the  spirit  and  manners  of  the 
troubled  age  to  which  they  are  referred,  that  I  can  see 
no  reason  for  doubting  their  being  founded  in  fact:  the 
names,  indeed,  of  numberless  localities  in  the  vicinity  of 
Douglas  Castle  appear  to  attest,  beyond  suspicion, 
many  even  of  the  smallest  circumstances  embraced  in 
the  story  of  Godscroft. 

Among  all  the  associates  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  in  his 
great  enterprise  of  rescuing  Scotland  from  the  power  of 
Edward,  the  first  place  is  universally  conceded  to  James, 

xi 


INTRODUCTION 

the  eighth  Lord  Douglas,  to  this  day  venerated  by  his 
countrymen  as  '  the  Good  Sir  James ' :  — 

The  Gud  Schyr  James  off  Douglas, 

That  in  his  time  sa  worthy  was, 

That  off  his  price  and  his  bounte. 

In  far  landis  renownyt  was  he.  —  Barbour. 

The  Good  Sir  James,  the  dreadful  blacke  Douglas, 

That  in  his  dayes  so  wise  and  worthie  was, 

Wha  here,  and  on  the  infidels  of  Spain, 

Such  honour,  praise,  and  triumphs  did  obtain.  —  Gordon. 

From  the  time  when  the  King  of  England  refused  to 
reinstate  him,  on  his  return  from  France,  where  he  had 
received  the  education  of  chivalry,  in  the  extensive 
possessions  of  his  family,  which  had  been  held  forfeited 
by  the  exertions  of  his  father,  William  the  Hardy,  the 
young  knight  of  Douglas  appears  to  have  embraced  the 
cause  of  Bruce  with  enthusiastic  ardour,  and  to  have 
adhered  to  the  fortunes  of  his  sovereign  with  unwearied 
fidelity  and  devotion.  'The  Douglasse,'  says  Hollinshed, 
'was  right  joyfully  received  of  King  Robert,  in  whose 
service  he  faithfully  continued,  both  in  peace  and  war,  to 
his  life's  end.  Though  the  surname  and  familie  of  the 
Douglasses  was  in  some  estimation  of  nobilitie  before 
those  daies,  yet  the  rising  thereof  to  honour  chanced 
through  this  James  Douglasse;  for,  by  meanes  of  his 
advancement,  others  of  that  lineage  tooke  occasion,  by 
their  singular  manhood  and  noble  prowess,  shewed  at 
sundrie  times  in  defence  of  the  realme,  to  grow  to  such 
height  in  authoritie  and  estimation,  that  their  mightie 
puissance  in  mainrent,  lands,  and  great  possessions  at 
length  was,  through  suspicion  conceived  by  the  kings 
that  succeeded,  the  cause  in  part  of  their  ruinous  decay/ 

xii 


INTRODUCTION 

In  every  narrative  of  the  Scottish  war  of  independ- 
ence, a  considerable  space  is  devoted  to  those  years  of 
perilous  adventure  and  suffering  which  were  spent  by 
the  illustrious  friend  of  Bruce  in  harassing  the  English 
detachments  successively  occupying  his  paternal  terri- 
tory, and  in  repeated  and  successful  attempts  to  wrest 
the  formidable  fortress  of  Douglas  Castle  itself  from 
their  possession.  In  the  English  as  well  as  Scotch 
Chronicles,  and  in  Rymer's  Fcedera,  occur  frequent 
notices  of  the  different  officers  entrusted  by  Edward 
with  the  keeping  of  this  renowned  stronghold;  especially 
Sir  Robert  de  Clifford,  ancestor  of  the  heroic  race  of  the 
Cliffords,  Earls  of  Cumberland;  his  lieutenant,  Sir  Rich- 
ard de  Thurlewalle  (written  sometimes  Thruswall),  of 
Thirlwall  Castle,  on  the  Tippal  in  Northumberland;  and 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  the  romantic  story  of  whose  love- 
pledge,  to  hold  the  Castle  of  Douglas  for  a  year  and  day, 
or  surrender  all  hope  of  obtaining  his  mistress's  favour, 
with  the  tragic  consequences  softened  in  the  Novel,  is 
given  at  length  in  Godscroft,  and  has  often  been  pointed 
out  as  one  of  the  affecting  passages  in  the  chronicles  of 
chivalry.^ 

The  Author,  before  he  had  made  much  progress  in 
this,  probably  the  last  of  his  Novels,  undertook  a  jour- 
ney to  Douglas  Dale,  for  the  purpose  of  examining  the 
remains  of  the  famous  castle,  the  kirk  of  St.  Bride  of 
Douglas,  the  patron  saint  of  that  great  family,  and  the 
various  localities  alluded  to  by  Godscroft  in  his  account 
of  the  early  adventures  of  Good  Sir  James;  but  though 
he  was  fortunate  enough  to  find  a  zealous  and  well- 

*  [The  reader  will  find  both  this  story  and  that  of  Robert  of  Paris  in 
Sir  W.  Scott's  essay  on  '  Chivalry,'  published  in  1818,  in  the  Supplement 
to  the  Encyclopedia  Brilannica.  —  £.] 

xiii 


INTRODUCTION 

informed  cicerone  in  Mr,  Thomas  Haddow,  and  had  every 
assistance  from  the  kindness  of  Mr.  Alexander  Finlay, 
the  resident  chamberlain  of  his  friend,  Lord  Douglas, 
the  state  of  his  health  at  the  time  was  so  feeble,  that  he 
found  himself  incapable  of  pursuing  his  researches,  as  in 
better  days  he  would  have  delighted  to  do,  and  was 
obliged  to  be  contented  with  such  a  cursory  view  of 
scenes,  in  themselves  most  interesting,  as  could  be 
snatched  in  a  single  morning,  when  any  bodily  exertion 
was  painful.  Mr.  Haddow  was  attentive  enough  to 
forward  subsequently  some  notes  on  the  points  which 
the  Author  had  seemed  desirous  of  investigating;  but 
these  did  not  reach  him  until,  being  obliged  to  prepare 
matters  for  a  foreign  excursion  in  quest  of  health  and 
strength,  he  had  been  compelled  to  bring  his  work,  such 
as  it  is,  to  a  conclusion. 

The  remains  of  the  old  Castle  of  Douglas  are  incon- 
siderable. They  consist  indeed  of  but  one  ruined  tower, 
standing  at  a  short  distance  from  the  modern  mansion, 
which  itself  is  only  a  fragment  of  the  design  on  which  the 
Duke  of  Douglas  meant  to  reconstruct  the  edifice,  after 
its  last  accidental  destruction  by  fire.^  His  Grace  had 
kept  in  view  the  ancient  prophecy  that,  as  often  as 
Douglas  Castle  might  be  destroyed,  it  should  rise  again 
in  enlarged  dimensions  and  improved  splendour,  and 
projected  a  pile  of  building  which,  if  it  had  been  com- 
pleted, would  have  much  exceeded  any  nobleman's 
residence  then  existing  in  Scotland,  as  indeed  what  has 
been  finished,  amoimting  to  about  one-eighth  part  of 
the  plan,  is  sufficiently  extensive  for  the  accommodation 
of  a  large  estabhshment,  and  contains  some  apartments 
1  See  Note  I. 
xiv 


INTRODUCTION 

the  dimensions  of  which  are  magnificent.  The  situation 
is  commanding;  and  though  the  Duke's  successors  have 
allowed  the  mansion  to  continue  as  he  left  it,  great 
expense  has  been  lavished  on  the  environs,  which  now 
present  a  vast  sweep  of  richly  imdulated  woodland, 
stretching  to  the  borders  of  the  Cairntable  mountains, 
repeatedly  mentioned  as  the  favourite  retreat  of  the 
great  ancestor  of  the  family  in  the  days  of  his  hardship 
and  persecution.  There  remains  at  the  head  of  the  ad- 
joining bourg  the  choir  of  the  ancient  church  of  St. 
Bride,  having  beneath  it  the  vault  which  was  used  till 
lately  as  the  burial-place  of  this  princely  race,  and  only 
abandoned  when  their  stone  and  leaden  coffins  had 
accimaulated,  in  the  course  of  five  or  six  hundred  years, 
in  such  a  way  that  it  could  accommodate  no  more. 
Here  a  silver  case,  containing  the  dust  of  what  was  once 
the  brave  heart  of  Good  Sir  James,  is  still  pointed  out; 
and  in  the  dilapidated  choir  above  appears,  though  in  a 
sorely  ruinous  state,  the  once  magnificent  tomb  of  the 
warrior  himself.  After  detailing  the  well-known  cir- 
cumstances of  Sir  James's  death  in  Spain,  20th  August 
1330,  where  he  fell,  assisting  the  King  of  Arragon  in  an 
expedition  against  the  Moors,  when  on  his  way  back  to 
Scotland  from  Jerusalem,  to  which  he  had  conveyed  the 
heart  of  Bruce,  the  old  poet  Barbour  teUs  us  that  — 

Quhen  his  men  lang  had  mad  mumjnn. 
Thai  debowalyt  him,  and  syne 
Gert  scher  him  swa,  that  mycht  be  tane 
The  flesch  all  haly  fra  the  bane, 
And  the  carioune  thar  in  haly  place 
Erdyt,  with  rycht  gret  worschip,  was. 

The  banys  haue  thai  with  thaim  tane; 
And  syne  ar  to  their  schippis  gane; 

XV 


INTRODUCTION 

Syne  towart  Scotland  held  thair  way, 
And  thar  ar  cummyn  in  full  gret  hy. 
And  the  banys  honorabilly 
In  till  the  kyrk  off  Douglas  war 
Erdyt,  with  dule  and  mekiU  car. 
Schyr  Archebald  his  sone  gert  syn 
Off  alabastre,  bath  fair  and  fyne, 
Ordane  a  tumbe  sa  richly 
As  it  behowyt  to  swa  worthy. 

The  monument  is  supposed  to  have  been  wantonly- 
mutilated  and  defaced  by  a  detachment  of  Cromwell's 
troops,  who,  as  was  their  custom,  converted  the  kirk  of 
St.  Bride  of  Douglas  into  a  stable  for  their  horses. 
Enough,  however,  remains  to  identify  the  resting-place 
of  the  great  Sir  James.  The  effigy,  of  dark  stone,  is 
cross-legged,  marking  his  character  as  one  who  had  died 
after  performing  the  pilgrimage  to  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
and  in  actual  conflict  with  the  infidels  of  Spain;  and  the 
introduction  of  the  heart,  adopted  as  an  addition  to  the 
old  arms  of  Douglas,  in  consequence  of  the  knight's 
fulfilment  of  Bruce's  dying  injunction,  appears,  when 
taken  in  connexion  with  the  posture  of  the  figure,  to  set 
the  question  at  rest.  The  monument,  in  its  original 
state,  must  have  been  not  inferior  in  any  respect  to  the 
best  of  the  same  period  in  Westminster  Abbey;  and  the 
curious  reader  is  referred  for  further  particulars  of  it  to 
The  Sepulchral  Antiquities  of  Great  Britain,  by  Edward 
Blore,  F.S.A.  (London,  4to,  1826),  where  may  also  be 
found  interesting  details  of  some  of  the  other  tombs  and 
effigies  in  the  cemetery  of  the  first  house  of  Douglas. 

As  considerable  liberties  have  been  taken  with  the 
historical  incidents  on  which  this  novel  is  founded,  it  is 
due  to  the  reader  to  place  before  him  such  extracts  from 

xvi 


INTRODUCTION 

Godscroft  and  Barbour  as  may  enable  him  to  correct 
any  mis-impression.  The  passages  introduced  in  the 
Appendix,  from  the  ancient  poem  of  The  Bruce,  will 
moreover  gratify  those  who  have  not  in  their  possession 
a  copy  of  the  text  of  Barbour,  as  given  in  the  valuable 
quarto  edition  of  my  learned  friend  Dr.  Jamieson,  as 
furnishing  on  the  whole  a  favourable  specimen  of  the 
style  and  manner  of  a  venerable  classic  who  wrote  when 
Scotland  was  still  full  of  the  fame  and  glory  of  her  liber- 
ators from  the  yoke  of  Plantagenet,  and  especially  of 
Sir  James  Douglas,  *of  whom,'  says  Godscroft,  'we  will 
not  omit  here  (to  shut  up  all)  the  judgment  of  those 
times  concerning  him,  in  a  rude  verse  indeed,  yet  such 
as  beareth  witness  of  his  true  magnanimity  and  invin- 
cible mind  in  either  fortune :  — 

Good  Sir  James  Douglas,  who  wise,  and  wight,  and  worthy  was, 
Was  never  overglad  in  no  winning,  nor  yet  oversad  for  no  tineing; 
Good  fortune  and  evil  chance  he  weighed  both  in  one  balance. 

W.  S. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 


CHAPTER  I 

Hosts  have  been  known  at  that  dread  sound  to  yield, 
And,  Douglas  dead,  his  name  hath  won  the  field. 

John  Houe. 

It  was  at  the  close  of  an  early  spring  day,  when  nature, 
in  a  cold  province  of  Scotland,  was  reviving  from  her 
winter's  sleep,  and  the  air  at  least,  though  not  the  veg- 
etation, gave  promise  of  an  abatement  of  the  rigour 
of  the  season,  that  two  travellers,  whose  appearance  at 
that  early  period  sufficiently  announced  their  wandering 
character,  which,  in  general,  secured  a  free  passage  even 
through  a  dangerous  country,  were  seen  coming  from  the 
south-westward,  within  a  few  miles  of  the  Castle  of 
Douglas,  and  seemed  to  be  holding  their  course  in  the 
direction  of  the  river  of  that  name,  whose  dale  afiforded 
a  species  of  approach  to  that  memorable  feudal  fortress. 
The  stream,  small  in  comparison  to  the  extent  of  its 
fame,  served  as  a  kind  of  drain  to  the  country  in  its 
neighbourhood,  and  at  the  same  time  afforded  the  means 
of  a  rough  road  to  the  castle  and  village.  The  high  lords 
to  whom  the  castle  had  for  ages  belonged  might,  had 
they  chosen,  have  made  this  access  a  great  deal  smoother 
and  more  convenient;  but  there  had  been  as  yet  little  or 
no  exercise  for  those  geniuses  who  have  taught  all  the 
world  that  it  is  better  to  take  the  more  circuitous  road 
round  the  base  of  a  hill  than  the  direct  course  of  ascend- 

45  I 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  it  on  the  one  side  and  descending  it  directly  on  the 
other,  without  yielding  a  single  step  to  render  the  pas- 
sage more  easy  to  the  traveller;  still  less  were  those 
mysteries  dreamed  of  which  M'Adam  has  of  late  days 
expounded.  But,  indeed,  to  what  purpose  should  the 
ancient  Douglasses  have  employed  his  principles,  even 
if  they  had  known  them  in  ever  so  much  perfection? 
Wheel-carriages,  except  of  the  most  clumsy  description, 
and  for  the  most  simple  operations  of  agriculture,  were 
totally  unknown.  Even  the  most  delicate  female  had  no 
resource  save  a  horse,  or,  in  case  of  sore  infirmity,  a 
litter.  The  men  used  their  own  sturdy  limbs,  or  hardy 
horses,  to  transport  themselves  from  place  to  place;  and 
travellers,  females  in  particular,  experienced  no  small 
inconvenience  from  the  rugged  nature  of  the  country. 
A  swollen  torrent  sometimes  crossed  their  path,  and 
compelled  them  to  wait  until  the  waters  had  abated 
their  frenzy.  The  bank  of  a  small  river  was  occasionally 
torn  away  by  the  effects  of  a  thunderstorm,  a  recent 
inundation,  or  the  Hke  convulsions  of  nature;  and  the 
wayfarer  relied  upon  his  knowledge  of  the  district,  or 
obtained  the  best  local  information  in  his  power,  how  to 
direct  his  path  so  as  to  surmount  such  untoward 
obstacles. 

The  Douglas  issues  from  an  amphitheatre  of  moun- 
tains which  bounds  the  valley  to  the  south-west,  from 
whose  contributions,  and  the  aid  of  sudden  storms,  it 
receives  its  scanty  supplies.  The  general  aspect  of  the 
country  is  that  of  the  pastoral  hills  of  the  south  of  Scot- 
land, forming,  as  is  usual,  bleak  and  wild  farms,  many  of 
which  had,  at  no  great  length  of  time  from  the  date  of 
the  story,  been  covered  with  trees,  as  some  of  them  still 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

attest  by  bearing  the  name  of  'shaw/  that  is,  wild 
natural  wood.  The  neighbourhood  of  the  Douglas  water 
itself  was  flat  land,  capable  of  bearing  strong  crops  of 
oats  and  rye,  supplying  the  inhabitants  with  what  they 
required  of  these  productions.  At  no  great  distance  from 
the  edge  of  the  river,  a  few  special  spots  excepted,  the 
soil  capable  of  agriculture  was  more  and  more  mixed 
with  the  pastoral  and  woodland  country,  till  both 
terminated  in  desolate  and  partly  inaccessible  moor- 
lands. 

Above  all,  it  was  war-time,  and  of  necessity  all  cir- 
cumstances of  mere  convenience  were  obliged  to  give 
way  to  a  paramount  sense  of  danger;  the  inhabitants, 
therefore,  instead  of  trying  to  amend  the  paths  which 
connected  them  with  other  districts,  were  thankful  that 
the  natural  difficulties  which  surrounded  them  rendered 
it  unnecessary  to  break  up  or  to  fortify  the  access  from 
more  open  countries.  Their  wants,  with  a  very  few 
exceptions,  were  completely  supplied,  as  we  have 
already  said,  by  the  rude  and  scanty  produce  of  their 
own  mountains  and  'holms,'  ^  the  last  of  which  served 
for  the  exercise  of  their  Umited  agriculture,  while  the 
better  part  of  the  mountains  and  forest  glens  produced 
pasture  for  their  herds  and  flocks.  The  recesses  of  the 
unexplored  depths  of  these  silvan  retreats  being  seldom 
disturbed,  especially  since  the  lords  of  the  district  had 
laid  aside,  during  this  time  of  strife,  their  constant  occu- 
pation of  hunting,  the  various  kinds  of  game  had  in- 
creased of  late  very  considerably;  so  that  not  only  in 
crossing  the  rougher  parts  of  the  hilly  and  desolate 

1  Holms,  or  flat  plains,  by  the  sides  of  the  brooks  and  rivers,  termed 
in  the  south,  Ings. 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

country  we  are  describing,  different  varieties  of  deer 
were  occasionally  seen,  but  even  the  wild  cattle  peculiar 
to  Scotland  sometimes  showed  themselves,  and  other 
animals,  which  indicated  the  irregular  and  disordered 
state  of  the  period.  The  wildcat  was  frequently  sur- 
prised in  the  dark  ravines  or  the  swampy  thickets;  and 
the  wolf,  already  a  stranger  to  the  more  populous  dis- 
tricts of  the  Lothians,  here  maintained  his  ground 
against  the  encroachments  of  man,  and  was  still  himself 
a  terror  to  those  by  whom  he  was  finally  to  be  extir- 
pated. In  winter  especially  —  and  winter  was  hardly 
yet  past  —  these  savage  animals  were  wont  to  be  driven 
to  extremity  for  lack  of  food,  and  used  to  frequent,  in 
dangerous  numbers,  the  battlefields,  the  deserted  church- 
yard —  nay,  sometimes  the  abodes  of  living  men,  there 
to  watch  for  children,  their  defenceless  prey,  with  as 
much  familiarity  as  the  fox  nowadays  will  venture  to 
prowl  near  the  mistress's  ^  poultry-yard. 

From  what  we  have  said,  our  readers,  if  they  have 
made  —  as  who  in  these  days  has  not?  —  the  Scottish 
tour,  will  be  able  to  form  a  tolerably  just  idea  of  the 
wilder  and  upper  part  of  Douglas  Dale,  during  the  ear- 
lier period  of  the  fourteenth  century.  The  setting  sun 
cast  his  gleams  along  a  moorland  country,  which  to  the 
westward  broke  into  larger  swells,  terminating  in  the 
mountains  called  the  Larger  and  Lesser  Cairntable.  The 
first  of  these  is,  as  it  were,  the  father  of  the  hills  in  the 
neighbourhood,  the  source  of  an  hundred  streams,  and 
by  far  the  largest  of  the  ridge,  still  holding  in  his  dark 
bosom,  and  in  the  ravines  with  which  his  sides  are 

*  The  good  dame  or  wife  of  a  respectable  farmer  is  almost  universally 
thus  designated  in  Scotland. 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

ploughed,  considerable  remnants  of  those  ancient  forests 
with  which  all  the  high  grounds  of  that  quarter  were 
once  covered,  and  particularly  the  hills,  in  which  the  riv- 
ers —  both  those  which  run  to  the  east  and  those  which 
seek  the  west  to  discharge  themselves  into  the  Solway 
—  hide,  like  so  many  hermits,  their  original  and  scanty 
sources. 

The  landscape  was  still  illuminated  by  the  reflection  of 
the  evening  sun,  sometimes  thrown  back  from  pool  or 
stream ;  sometimes  resting  on  grey  rocks,  huge  cumber- 
ers  of  the  soil,  which  labour  and  agriculture  have  since 
removed;  and  sometimes  contenting  itself  with  gilding 
the  banks  of  the  stream,  tinged  alternately  grey,  green, 
or  ruddy,  as  the  ground  itself  consisted  of  rock,  or 
grassy  turf,  or  bare  earthen  mound,  or  looked  at  a  dis- 
tancelike a  rampart  of  dark  red  porphyry.  Occasionally, 
too,  the  eye  rested  on  the  steep  brown  extent  of  moor- 
land, as  the  simbeam  glanced  back  from  the  little  tarn 
or  mountain  pool,  whose  lustre,  like  that  of  the  eye  in 
the  human  countenance,  gives  a  life  and  vivacity  to 
every  feature  around. 

The  elder  and  stouter  of  the  two  travellers  whom  we 
have  mentioned  was  a  person  well,  and  even  showily, 
dressed,  according  to  the  finery  of  the  times,  and  bore  at 
his  back,  as  wandering  minstrels  were  wont,  a  case,  con- 
taining a  small  harp,  rote,  or  viol,  or  some  such  species 
of  musical  instrument  for  accompanying  the  voice.  The 
leathern  case  announced  so  much,  although  it  pro- 
claimed not  the  exact  nature  of  the  instrument.  The 
colour  of  the  traveller's  doublet  was  blue,  and  that  of  his 
hose  violet,  with  slashes  which  showed  a  lining  of  the 
same  colour  with  the  jerkin.  A  mantle  ought,  according 

5 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

to  ordinary  custom,  to  have  covered  this  dress;  but  the 
heat  of  the  sun,  though  the  season  was  so  early,  had 
induced  the  wearer  to  fold  up  his  cloak  in  small  compass, 
and  form  it  into  a  bundle,  attached  to  the  shoulders  like 
the  military  greatcoat  of  the  infantry  soldier  of  the 
present  day.  The  neatness  with  which  it  was  made  up 
argued  the  precision  of  a  practised  traveller,  who  had 
been  long  accustomed  to  every  resource  which  change 
of  weather  required.  A  great  profusion  of  narrow 
ribands  or  points,  constituting  the  loops  with  which  our 
ancestors  connected  their  doublet  and  hose,  formed  a 
kind  of  cordon,  composed  of  knots  of  blue  or  violet, 
which  surrounded  the  traveller's  person,  and  thus  assim- 
ilated in  colour  with  the  two  garments  which  it  was  the 
ofi&ce  of  these  strings  to  combine.  The  bonnet  usually 
worn  with  this  showy  dress  was  of  that  kind  with  which 
Henry  the  Eighth  and  his  son,  Edward  the  Sixth,  are 
usually  represented.  It  was  more  fitted,  from  the  gay 
stuff  of  which  it  was  composed,  to  appear  in  a  public 
place  than  to  encounter  a  storm  of  rain.  It  was  party- 
coloured,  being  made  of  different  stripes  of  blue  and 
violet;  and  the  wearer  arrogated  a  certain  degree  of 
gentility  to  himself,  by  wearing  a  plume  of  considerable 
dimensions  of  the  same  favourite  colours.  The  features 
over  which  this  feather  drooped  were  in  no  degree 
remarkable  for  pecuUarity  of  expression.  Yet  in  so 
desolate  a  country  as  the  west  of  Scotland  it  would  not 
have  been  easy  to  pass  the  man  without  more  minute 
attention  than  he  would  have  met  with  where  there  was 
more  in  the  character  of  the  scenery  to  arrest  the  gaze  of 
the  passengers. 
A  quick  eye,  a  sociable  look,  seeming  to  say,  'Ay,  look 

6 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

at  me,  I  am  a  man  worth  noticing,  and  not  unworthy 
your  attention,'  carried  with  it,  nevertheless,  an  inter- 
pretation which  might  be  thought  favourable  or  other- 
wise, according  to  the  character  of  the  person  whom  the 
traveller  met.  A  knight  or  soldier  would  merely  have 
thought  that  he  had  met  a  merry  fellow,  who  could  sing 
a  wild  song,  or  tell  a  wild  tale,  and  help  to  empty  a 
flagon,  with  all  the  accomplishments  necessary  for  a 
boon  companion  at  an  hostelry,  except  perhaps  an 
alacrity  at  defraying  his  share  of  the  reckoning.  A 
churchman,  on  the  other  hand,  might  have  thought  he 
of  the  blue  and  violet  was  of  too  loose  habits,  and  accus- 
tomed too  little  to  limit  himself  within  the  boundaries 
of  beseeming  mirth,  to  be  fit  society  for  one  of  his  sacred 
calling.  Yet  the  man  of  song  had  a  certain  steadiness  of 
countenance,  which  seemed  fitted  to  hold  place  in  scenes 
of  serious  business  as  well  as  of  gaiety.  A  wayfaring 
passenger  of  wealth,  not  at  that  time  a  numerous  class,' 
might  have  feared  in  him  a  professional  robber,  or  one 
whom  opportunity  was  very  likely  to  convert  into  such; 
a  female  might  have  been  apprehensive  of  uncivil  treat- 
ment; and  a  youth,  or  timid  person,  might  have  thought 
of  murder  or  such  direful  doings.  Unless  privately 
armed,  however,  the  minstrel  was  ill-accoutred  for  any 
dangerous  occupation.  His  only  visible  weapon  was  a 
small  crooked  sword,  Hke  what  we  now  call  a  hanger; 
and  the  state  of  the  times  would  have  justified  any  man, 
however  peaceful  his  intentions,  in  being  so  far  armed 
against  the  perils  of  the  road. 

If  a  glance  at  this  man  had  in  any  respect  prejudiced 
him  in  the  opinion  of  those  whom  he  met  on  his  journey, 
a  look  at  his  companion  would,  so  far  as  his  character 

7 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

could  be  guessed  at  —  for  he  was  closely  muffled  up  — 
have  passed  for  an  apology  and  warrant  for  his  associate. 
The  young  traveller  was  apparently  in  early  youth,  a 
soft  and  gentle  boy,  whose  Sclavonic  gown,  the  appro- 
priate dress  of  the  pilgrim,  he  wore  more  closely  drawn 
about  him  than  the  coldness  of  the  weather  seemed  to 
authorise  or  recommend.  His  features,  imperfectly 
seen  under  the  hood  of  his  pilgrim's  dress,  were  prepos- 
sessing in  a  high  degree;  and  though  he  wore  a  walking- 
sword,  it  seemed  rather  to  be  in  compHance  with  general 
fashion  than  from  any  violent  purpose  he  did  so.  There 
were  traces  of  sadness  upon  his  brow,  and  of  tears  upon 
his  cheeks;  and  his  weariness  was  such  as  even  his 
rougher  companion  seemed  to  sympathise  with,  while 
he  privately  participated  also  in  the  sorrow  which  left 
its  marks  upon  a  countenance  so  lovely.  They  spoke 
together,  and  the  elder  of  the  two,  while  he  assumed  the 
deferential  air  proper  to  a  man  of  inferior  rank  address- 
ing a  superior,  showed,  in  tone  and  gesture,  something 
that  amounted  to  interest  and  afifection. 

'Bertram,  my  friend,'  said  the  younger  of  the  two, 
'how  far  are  we  still  from  Douglas  Castle?  We  have  al- 
ready come  farther  than  the  twenty  miles  which  thou 
didst  say  was  the  distance  from  Cammock  —  or  how 
didst  thou  call  the  last  hostelry  which  we  left  by  day- 
break? ' 

'Cumnock,  my  dearest  lady  —  I  beg  ten  thousand 
excuses  —  my  gracious  young  lord.' 

'Call  me  Augustine,'  replied  his  comrade,  'if  you 
mean  to  speak  as  is  fittest  for  the  time.' 

'Nay,  as  for  that,'  said  Bertram,  'if  your  ladyship  can 
condescend  to  lay  aside  your  quality,  my  own  good- 

8 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

breeding  is  not  so  firmly  sewed  to  me  but  that  I  can  doff 
it  and  resume  it  again  without  its  losing  a  stitch;  and 
since  your  ladyship,  to  whom  I  am  sworn  in  obedience, 
is  pleased  to  command  that  I  should  treat  you  as  my 
own  son,  shame  it  were  to  me  if  I  were  not  to  show  you 
the  affection  of  a  father,  more  especially  as  I  may  well 
swear  my  great  oath  that  I  owe  you  the  duty  of  such, 
though  well  I  wot  it  has,  in  our  case,  been  the  lot  of  the 
parent  to  be  maintained  by  the  kindness  and  Hberality 
of  the  child;  for  when  was  it  that  I  hungered  or  thirsted, 
and  the  black  stock  ^  of  Berkely  did  not  relieve  my 
wants? ' 

*  I  would  have  it  so,'  answered  the  young  pilgrim  —  'I 
would  have  it  so.  What  use  of  the  mountains  of  beef  and 
the  oceans  of  beer  which  they  say  our  domains  produce, 
if  there  is  a  hungry  heart  among  our  vassalage,  or 
especially  if  thou,  Bertram,  who  hast  served  as  the 
minstrel  of  our  house  for  more  than  twenty  years, 
shouldst  experience  such  a  f eeHng? ' 

'Certes,  lady,'  answered  Bertram,  'it  would  be  like 
the  catastrophe  which  is  told  of  the  baron  of  Fasten- 
ough,  when  his  last  mouse  was  starved  to  death  in  the 
very  pantry;  and  if  I  escape  this  journey  without  such 
calamity,  I  shall  think  myself  out  of  reach  of  thirst  or 
famine  for  the  whole  of  my  life.' 

'Thou  hast  suffered  already  once  or  twice  by  these 
attacks,  my  poor  friend,'  said  the  lady. 

*It  is  little,'  answered  Bertram,  'anything  that  I  have 
suffered ;  and  I  were  ungrateful  to  give  the  inconvenience 
of  missing  a  breakfast,  or  making  an  untimely  dinner,  so 

^  The  table  dormant,  which  stood  in  a  baron's  hall,  was  often  so 
designated. 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

serious  a  name.  But  then  I  hardly  see  how  your  ladyship 
can  endure  this  gear  much  longer.  You  must  yourself 
feel  that  the  plodding  along  these  high  lands,  of  which 
the  Scots  give  us  such  good  measure  in  their  miles,  is  no 
jesting  matter;  and  as  for  Douglas  Castle,  why,  it  is  still 
three  good  miles  off.' 

*The  question  then  is,'  quoth  the  lady,  heaving  a  sigh, 
'what  we  are  to  do  when  we  have  so  far  to  travel,  and 
when  the  castle  gates  must  be  locked  long  before  we 
arrive  there? ' 

'  For  that  I  will  pledge  my  word,'  answered  Bertram. 
'The  gates  of  Douglas,  under  the  keeping  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  do  not  open  so  easily  as  those  of  the  buttery 
hatch  at  our  own  castle  when  it  is  well  oiled ;  and  if  your 
ladyship  take  my  advice,  you  will  turn  southward  ho, 
and  in  two  days  at  farthest  we  shall  be  in  a  land  where 
men's  wants  are  provided  for,  as  the  iims  proclaim  it, 
with  the  least  possible  delay,  and  the  secret  of  this  Httle 
journey  shall  never  be  known  to  Uving  mortal  but  our- 
selves, as  sure  as  I  am  sworn  minstrel  and  man  of  faith.' 

*I  thank  thee  for  thy  advice,  mine  honest  Bertram,' 
said  the  lady,  'but  I  cannot  profit  by  it.  Should  thy 
knowledge  of  these  parts  possess  thee  with  an  acquaint- 
ance with  any  decent  house,  whether  it  belong  to  rich  or 
poor,  I  would  willingly  take  quarters  there,  if  I  could 
obtain  them  from  this  time  until  to-morrow  morning. 
The  gates  of  Douglas  Castle  will  then  be  open  to  guests 
of  so  peaceful  an  appearance  as  we  carry  with  us,  and  — 
and  —  it  will  out  —  we  might  have  time  to  make  such 
appHcations  to  our  toilet  as  might  insure  us  a  good 
reception,  by  drawing  a  comb  through  our  locks,  or 
such-like  foppery.' 

lO 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

*Ah,  madam!'  said  Bertram,  'were  not  Sir  John  de 
Walton  in  question,  methinks  I  should  venture  to  reply, 
that  an  imwashed  brow,  an  unkempt  head  of  hair,  and  a 
look  far  more  saucy  than  your  ladyship  ever  wears,  or 
can  wear,  were  the  proper  disguise  to  trick  out  that 
minstrel's  boy  whom  you  wish  to  represent  in  the 
present  pageant.' 

'  Do  you  suffer  your  youthful  pupils  to  be  indeed  so 
slovenly  and  so  saucy,  Bertram?'  answered  the  lady.  *I 
for  one  will  not  imitate  them  in  that  particular;  and 
whether  Sir  John  be  now  in  the  Castle  of  Douglas  or  not, 
I  will  treat  the  soldiers  who  hold  so  honourable  a  charge 
with  a  washed  brow  and  a  head  of  hair  somewhat 
ordered.  As  for  going  back  without  seeing  a  castle 
which  has  mingled  even  with  my  very  dreams  —  at  a 
word,  Bertram,  thou  mayst  go  that  way,  but  I  will  not.' 

'And  if  I  part  with  your  ladyship  on  such  terms,' 
responded  the  minstrel,  'now  your  frolic  is  so  nearly 
accomplished,  it  shall  be  the  foul  fiend  himself,  and 
nothing  more  comely  or  less  dangerous,  that  shall  tear 
me  from  your  side ;  and  for  lodging,  there  is  not  far  from 
hence  the  house  of  one  Tom  Dickson  of  Hazelside,  one 
of  the  most  honest  fellows  of  the  dale,  and  who,  although 
a  labouring  man,  ranked  as  high  as  a  warrior,  when  I 
was  in  this  country,  as  any  noble  gentleman  that  rode  in 
the  band  of  the  Douglas.' 

'He  is,  then,  a  soldier?'  said  the  lady. 

'When  his  country  or  his  lord  need  his  sword,'  replied 
Bertram,  'and,  to  say  the  truth,  they  are  seldom  at 
peace;  but  otherwise  he  is  no  enemy,  save  to  the  wolf 
which  plunders  his  herds.' 

'But  forget  not,  my  trusty  guide,'  replied  the  lady, 

II 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*  that  the  blood  in  our  veins  is  English,  and  consequently, 
that  we  are  in  danger  from  all  who  call  themselves  foes 
to  the  ruddy  cross. 

*Do  not  fear  this  man's  faith/  answered  Bertram. 
*You  may  trust  to  him  as  to  the  best  knight  or  gentle- 
man of  the  land.  We  may  make  good  our  lodging  by  a 
tune  or  a  song;  and  it  may  remember  you  that  I  under- 
took, provided  it  pleased  your  ladyship,  to  temporise  a 
little  with  the  Scots,  who,  poor  souls,  love  minstrelsy, 
and  when  they  have  but  a  silver  penny  will  wiUingly 
bestow  it  to  encourage  the  gay  science  —  I  promised 
you,  I  say,  that  we  should  be  as  welcome  to  them  as  if  we 
had  been  born  amidst  their  own  wild  hills;  and  for  the 
best  that  such  a  house  as  Dickson's  affords,  the  gleeman's 
son,  fair  lady,  shall  not  breathe  a  wish  in  vain.  And 
now,  will  you  speak  your  mind  to  your  devoted  friend 
and  adopted  father,  or  rather  your  sworn  servant  and 
guide,  Bertram  the  Minstrel,  what  it  is  your  pleasure 
to  do  in  this  matter? ' 

*  O,  we  will  certainly  accept  of  the  Scot's  hospitality,* 
said  the  lady,  'your  minstrel  word  being  plighted  that 
he  is  a  true  man.  Tom  Dickson,  call  you  him?' 

'Yes,'  repHed  Bertram,  'such  is  his  name;  and  by 
looking  on  these  sheep,  I  am  assured  that  we  are  now 
upon  his  land.' 

'Indeed! '  said  the  lady,  with  some  surprise;  'and  how 
is  your  wisdom  aware  of  that? ' 

'I  see  the  first  letter  of  his  name  marked  upon  this 
flock,'  answered  the  guide.  'Ah,  learning  is  what  carries 
a  man  through  the  world,  as  well  as  if  he  had  the  ring  by 
virtue  of  which  old  minstrels  tell  that  Adam  understood 
the  language  of  the  beasts  in  Paradise.    Ah,  madam! 

12 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

there  is  more  wit  taught  in  the  shepherd's  shieling  than 
the  lady  thinks  of  who  sews  her  painted  seam  in  her 
summer  bower.' 

'Be  it  so,  good  Bertram.  And  although  not  so  deeply 
skilled  in  the  knowledge  of  written  language  as  you  are, 
it  is  impossible  for  me  to  esteem  its  value  more  than  I 
actually  do;  so  hold  we  on  the  nearest  road  to  this  Tom 
Dickson's,  whose  very  sheep  tell  of  his  whereabout.  I 
trust  we  have  not  very  far  to  go,  although  the  knowledge 
that  our  journey  is  shortened  by  a  few  miles  has  so 
much  recovered  my  fatigue  that  methinks  I  could  dance 
all  the  rest  of  the  way.' 


CHAPTER  II 

Rosalind.  Well,  this  is  the  Forest  of  Arden. 

Touchstone.  Aye,  now  am  I  in  Arden;  the  more  fool  I.  When  I  was  at  home,  I  was  in 
a  better  place;  but  travellers  must  be  content. 

Ros.  Aye,  be  so,  good  Touchstone.  Look  you,  who  comes  here;  a  young  man  and  an 
old,  in  solemn  talk. 

As  You  Like  It,  Act  n,  Scene  iv. 

As  the  travellers  spoke  together,  they  reached  a  turn  of 
the  path  which  presented  a  more  extensive  prospect  than 
the  broken  face  of  the  country  had  yet  shown  them.  A 
valley,  through  which  flowed  a  small  tributary  stream, 
exhibited  the  wild,  but  not  unpleasant,  features  of  *a 
lone  vale  of  green  bracken,'  here  and  there  besprinkled 
with  groups  of  alder-trees,  of  hazels,  and  of  copse  oak- 
wood,  which  had  maintained  their  stations  in  the 
recesses  of  the  valley,  although  they  had  vanished  from 
the  loftier  and  more  exposed  sides  of  the  hills.  The 
farm-house,  or  mansion-house,  for,  from  its  size  and 
appearance,  it  might  have  been  the  one  or  the  other,  was 
a  large  but  low  building,  and  the  walls  of  the  outhouses 
were  sufficiently  strong  to  resist  any  band  of  casual 
depredators.  There  was  nothing,  however,  which  could 
withstand  a  more  powerful  force;  for,  in  a  country  laid 
waste  by  war,  the  farmer  was  then,  as  now,  obliged  to 
take  his  chance  of  the  great  evils  attendant  upon  that 
state  of  things;  and  his  condition,  never  a  very  eligible 
one,  was  rendered  considerably  worse  by  the  insecurity 
attending  it.  About  half  a  mile  farther  was  seen  a  Gothic 
building  of  very  small  extent,  having  a  half-dismantled 
chapel,  which  the  minstrel  pronounced  to  be  the  abbey 

14 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

of  St.  Bride.  'The  place,'  he  said,  'I  understand,  is 
allowed  to  subsist,  as  two  or  three  old  monks  and  as 
many  nuns,  whom  it  contains,  are  permitted  by  the 
English  to  serve  God  there,  and  sometimes  to  give  relief 
to  Scottish  travellers;  and  who  have  accordingly  taken 
assurance  with  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  accepted  as 
their  superior  a  churchman  on  whom  he  thinks  he  can 
depend.  But  if  these  guests  happen  to  reveal  any 
secrets,  they  are,  by  some  means  or  other,  beheved  to 
fly  towards  the  English  governor;  and  therefore,  unless 
your  ladyship's  commands  be  positive,  I  think  we  had 
best  not  trust  ourselves  to  their  hospitality.' 

'Of  a  surety,  no,'  said  the  lady,  'if  thou  canst  provide 
me  with  lodgings  where  we  shall  have  more  prudent 
hosts.' 

At  this  moment,  two  human  forms  were  seen  to 
approach  the  farm-house  in  a  different  direction  from 
the  travellers,  and  speaking  so  high,  in  a  tone  apparently 
of  dispute,  that  the  minstrel  and  his  companion  could 
distinguish  their  voices  though  the  distance  was  con- 
siderable. Having  screened  his  eyes  with  his  hand  for 
some  minutes,  Bertram  at  length  exclaimed,  'By  Our 
Lady,  it  is  my  old  friend,  Tom  Dickson,  sure  enough ! 
What  can  make  him  in  such  bad  humour  with  the  lad, 
who,  I  think,  may  be  the  little  wild  boy,  his  son  Charles, 
who  used  to  run  about  and  plait  rushes  some  twenty 
years  ago?  It  is  lucky,  however,  we  have  found  our 
friends  astir;  for,  I  warrant,  Tom  hath  a  hearty  piece  of 
be^  in  the  pot  ere  he  goes  to  bed,  'and  he  must  have 
changed  his  wont  if  an  old  friend  hath  not  his  share;  and 
who  knows,  had  we  come  later,  at  what  hour  they  may 
now  find  it  convenient  to  drop  latch  and  draw  bolt  so 

IS 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

near  a  hostile  garrison;  for,  if  we  call  things  by  their 
right  names,  such  is  the  proper  term  for  an  English 
garrison  in  the  castle  of  a  Scottish  nobleman.' 

'Foolish  man,'  answered  the  lady,  'thou  judgest  of 
Sir  John  de  Walton  as  thou  wouldst  of  some  rude  boor, 
to  whom  the  opportunity  of  doing  what  he  wills  is  a 
temptation  and  license  to  exercise  cruelty  and  oppres- 
sion. Now,  I  could  phght  you  my  word  that,  setting 
apart  the  quarrel  of  the  kingdoms,  which,  of  course,  will 
be  fought  out  in  fair  battle  on  both  sides,  you  will  find 
that  English  and  Scottish,  within  this  domain,  and 
within  the  reach  of  Sir  John  de  Walton's  influence,  live 
together  as  that  same  flock  of  sheep  and  goats  do  with 
the  shepherd's  dog  —  a  foe  from  whom  they  fly  upon 
certain  occasions,  but  around  whom  they  nevertheless 
eagerly  gather  for  protection  should  a  wolf  happen  to 
show  himself.' 

'It  is  not  to  your  ladyship,'  answered  Bertram, '  that  I 
should  venture  to  state  my  opinion  of  such  matters;  but 
the  young  knight,  when  he  is  sheathed  in  armour,  is  a 
different  being  from  him  who  feasts  in  halls  among  press 
of  ladies;  and  he  that  feeds  by  another  man's  fireside, 
and  when  his  landlord,  of  all  men  in  the  world,  chances 
to  be  the  Black  Douglas,  has  reason  to  keep  his  eyes 
about  him  as  he  makes  his  meal.  But  it  were  better  I 
looked  after  our  own  evening  refreshment  than  that  I 
stood  here  gaping  and  talking  about  other  folk's  mat- 
ters.' So  saying,  he  called  out  in  a  thundering  tone  of 
voice,  '  Dickson !  —  what  ho,  Thomas  Dickson !  will  you 
not  acknowledge  an  old  friend,  who  is  much  disposed  to 
trust  his  supper  and  night's  lodging  to  your  hospital- 
ity?' 

x6 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

The  Scotchman,  attracted  by  the  call,  looked  first 
along  the  banks  of  the  river,  then  upwards  to  the  bare 
side  of  the  hill,  and  at  length  cast  his  eyes  upon  the  two 
figures  who  were  descending  from  it. 

As  if  he  felt  the  night  colder  while  he  advanced  from 
the  more  sheltered  part  of  the  valley  to  meet  them,  the 
Douglas  Dale  farmer  wrapped  closer  aroimd  him  the 
grey  plaid  which,  from  an  early  period,  has  been  used 
by  the  shepherds  of  the  south  of  Scotland,  and  the 
appearance  of  which  gives  a  romantic  air  to  the  peas- 
antry and  middle  classes;  and  which,  although  less 
brilliant  and  gaudy  in  its  colours,  is  as  picturesque  in  its 
arrangement  as  the  more  military  tartan  mantle  of  the 
Highlands.  When  they  approached  near  to  each  other, 
the  lady  might  observe  that  this  friend  of  her  guide  was 
a  stout  athletic  man,  somewhat  past  the  middle  of  Hfe, 
and  already  showing  marks  of  the  approach,  but  none 
of  the  infirmities,  of  age,  upon  a  countenance  which  had 
been  exposed  to  many  a  storm.  Sharp  eyes,  too,  and  a 
quick  observation,  exhibited  signs  of  vigilance,  acquired 
by  one  who  had  Hved  long  in  a  country  where  he  had 
constant  occasion  for  looking  around  him  with  caution. 
His  features  were  still  swollen  with  displeasure;  and  the 
handsome  young  man  who  attended  him  seemed  to  be 
discontented,  Hke  one  who  had  imdergone  no  gentle 
marks  of  his  father's  indignation,  and  who,  from  the 
sullen  expression  which  mingled  with  an  appearance  of 
shame  on  his  countenance,  seemed  at  once  affected  by 
anger  and  remorse. 

*Do  you  not  remember  me,  old  friend?'  said  Bertram, 
as  they  approached  within  a  distance  for  communing; 
*or  have  the  twenty  years  which  have  marched  over  us 

46  17 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

since  we  met  carried  along  with  them  all  remembrance 
of  Bertram,  the  English  minstrel?' 

'In  troth,'  answered  the  Scot,  'it  is  not  for  want  of 
plenty  of  your  countrymen  to  keep  you  in  my  remem- 
brance, and  I  have  hardly  heard  one  of  them  so  much  as 
whistle 

Hey,  now  the  day  dawns, 

but  it  has  recalled  some  note  of  your  blythe  rebeck;  and 
yet  such  animals  are  we,  that  I  had  forgot  the  mien  of 
my  old  friend,  and  scarcely  knew  him  at  a  distance.  But 
we  have  had  trouble  lately :  there  are  a  thousand  of  your 
countrymen  that  keep  garrison  in  the  Perilous  Castle  of 
Douglas  yonder,  as  well  as  in  other  places  through  the 
vale,  and  that  is  but  a  woful  sight  for  a  true  Scotchman; 
even  my  own  poor  house  has  not  escaped  the  dignity 
of  a  garrison  of  a  man-at-arms,  besides  two  or  three 
archer  knaves,  and  one  or  two  sHps  of  mischievous  boys 
called  pages,  and  so  forth,  who  will  not  let  a  man  say, 
"  this  is  my  own,"  by  his  own  fireside.  Do  not,  therefore, 
think  hardly  of  me,  old  comrade,  if  I  show  you  a  wel- 
come something  colder  than  you  might  expect  from  a 
friend  of  other  days;  for,  by  St.  Bride  of  Douglas,  I  have 
scarcely  anything  left  to  which  I  can  say  welcome.' 

'Small  welcome  will  serve,'  said  Bertram.  'My  son, 
make  thy  reverence  to  thy  father's  old  friend.  Augus- 
tine is  learning  my  joyous  trade,  but  he  will  need  some 
practice  ere  he  can  endure  its  fatigues.  If  you  could  give 
him  some  little  matter  of  food,  and  a  quiet  bed  for  the 
night,  there 's  no  fear  but  that  we  shall  both  do  well 
enough;  for  I  daresay  when  you  travel  with  my  friend 
Charles  there  —  if  that  tall  youth  chance  to  be  my  old 

i8 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

acquaintance  Charles  —  you  will  find  yourself  accom- 
modated when  his  wants  are  once  well  provided  for.' 

'Nay,  the  foul  fiend  take  me  if  I  do,'  answered  the 
Scottish  husbandman.  '  I  know  not  what  the  lads  of  this 
day  are  made  of  —  not  of  the  same  clay  as  their  fathers 
to  be  sure  —  not  sprung  from  the  heather,  which  fears 
neither  wind  nor  rain,  but  from  some  deHcate  plant  of  a 
foreign  country,  which  will  not  thrive  unless  it  be 
nourished  under  glass,  with  a  murrain  to  it!  The  good 
Lord  of  Douglas  —  I  have  been  his  henchman,  and  can 
vouch  for  it  —  did  not  in  his  pagehood  desire  such  food 
and  lodging  as,  in  the  present  day,  will  hardly  satisfy 
such  a  lad  as  your  friend  Charles.' 

*Nay,'  said  Bertram,  'it  is  not  that  my  Augustine  is 
over  nice;  but,  for  other  reasons,  I  must  request  of  you  a 
bed  to  himself:  he  hath  of  late  been  unwell.' 

*Ay,  I  understand,'  said  Dickson,  'your  son  hath  had 
a  touch  of  that  illness  which  terminates  so  frequently 
in  the  black  death  you  English  folk  die  of?  We  hear 
much  of  the  havoc  it  has  made  to  the  southward.  Comes 
it  hitherward?' 

Bertram  nodded. 

'Well,  my  father's  house,'  continued  the  farmer,  'hath 
more  rooms  than  one,  and  your  son  shall  have  one  well 
aired  and  comfortable;  and  for  supper,  ye  shall  have  a 
part  of  what  is  prepared  for  your  countrymen,  though 
I  would  rather  have  their  room  than  their  company. 
Since  I  am  bound  to  feed  a  score  of  them,  they  will  not 
dispute  the  claim  of  such  a  skilful  minstrel  as  thou  art 
to  a  night's  hospitality.  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that  1 
must  do  their  bidding  even  in  my  own  house.  Well-a- 
day,  if  my  good  lord  were  in  possession  of  his  own,  I  have 

19 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

heart  and  hand  enough  to  turn  the  whole  of  them  out  of 
my  house,  like  —  like  — ' 

*To  speak  plainly,'  said  Bertram,  'like  a  Southron 
strolling  gang  from  Redesdale,  whom  I  have  seen  you 
fling  out  of  your  house  like  a  litter  of  blind  puppies, 
when  not  one  of  them  looked  behind  to  see  who  had 
done  him  the  courtesy  until  he  was  half-way  to  Cairn- 
table.' 

*  Ay,'  answered  the  Scotchman,  drawing  himself  up  at 
least  six  inches  taller  than  before ;  *  then  I  had  a  house  of 
my  own,  and  a  cause  and  an  arm  to  keep  it.  Now  I  am 
—  what  signifies  it  what  I  am?  —  the  noblest  lord  in 
Scotland  is  little  better.' 

'Truly,  friend,'  said  Bertram,  'now  you  view  this 
matter  in  a  rational  light.  I  do  not  say  that  the  wisest, 
the  richest,  or  the  strongest  man  in  this  world  has  any 
right  to  tyrannise  over  his  neighbour,  because  he  is  the 
more  weak,  ignorant,  and  the  poorer,  but  yet,  if  he  does 
enter  into  such  a  controversy,  he  must  submit  to  the 
course  of  nature,  and  that  will  always  give  the  advantage 
in  the  tide  of  battle  to  wealth,  strength,  and  health.' 

'With  permission,  however,'  answered  Dickson,  'the 
weaker  party,  if  he  use  his  faculties  to  the  utmost,  may, 
in  the  long-run,  obtain  revenge  upon  the  author  of  his 
sufferings,  which  would  be  at  least  compensation  for  his 
temporary  submission;  and  he  acts  simply  as  a  man,  and 
most  foolishly  as  a  Scotchman,  whether  he  sustain  these 
wrongs  with  the  insensibility  of  an  idiot  or  whether  he 
endeavour  to  revenge  them  before  Heaven's  appointed 
time  has  arrived.  But  if  I  talk  thus  I  shall  scare  you,  as 
I  have  scared  some  of  your  countrymen,  from  accepting 
a  meal  of  meat  and  a  night's  lodging  in  a  house  where 

20 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

you  might  be  called  with  the  morning  to  a  bloody 
settlement  of  a  national  quarrel.' 

'Never  mind,'  said  Bertram,  'we  have  been  known  to 
each  other  of  old;  and  I  am  no  more  afraid  of  meeting 
unkindness  in  your  house  than  you  expect  me  to  come 
here  for  the  purpose  of  adding  to  the  injuries  of  which 
you  complain.' 

'So  be  it,'  said  Dickson;  'and  you,  my  old  friend,  are 
as  welcome  to  my  abode  as  when  it  never  held  any  guest 
save  of  my  own  inviting.  And  you,  my  young  friend, 
Master  Augustine,  shall  be  looked  after  as  well  as  if  you 
came  with  a  gay  brow  and  a  light  cheek,  such  as  best 
becomes  the  gay  science.' 

'But  wherefore,  may  I  ask,'  said  Bertram,  'so  much 
displeased  but  now  at  my  young  friend  Charles? ' 

The  youth  answered  before  his  father  had  time  to 
speak.  '  My  father,  good  sir,  may  put  what  show  upon  it 
he  will,  but  shrewd  and  wise  men  wax  weak  in  the  brain 
in  these  troublous  times.  He  saw  two  or  three  wolves 
seize  upon  three  of  our  choicest  wethers;  and  because  I 
shouted  to  give  the  alarm  to  the  Enghsh  garrison,  he 
was  angry  as  if  he  could  have  murdered  me  —  just  for 
saving  the  sheep  from  the  jaws  that  would  have  devoured 
them.' 

'This  is  a  strange  account  of  thee,  old  friend,'  said 
Bertram.  '  Dost  thou  connive  with  the  wolves  in  robbing 
thine  own  fold?' 

'Why,  let  it  pass  if  thou  lovest  me,'  answered  the 
countryman :  '  Charles  could  tell  thee  something  nearer 
the  truth  if  he  had  a  mind;  but  for  the  present  let  it 
pass.' 

The  minstrel,  perceiving  that  the  Scotchman  was 

21 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

fretted  and  embarrassed  with  the  subject,  pressed  it  no 
further. 

At  this  moment,  in  crossing  the  threshold  of  Thomas 
Dickson's  house,  they  were  greeted  with  soimds  from 
two  EngUsh  soldiers  within.  'Quiet,  Anthony,'  said  one 
voice  —  '  quiet,  man !  for  the  sake  of  common  sense,  if 
not  common  manners;  Robin  Hood  himself  never  sat 
down  to  his  board  ere  the  roast  was  ready.' 

'Ready!'  quoth  another  rough  voice;  'it  is  roasting  to 
rags,  and  small  had  been  the  knave  Dickson's  share, 
even  of  these  rags,  had  it  not  been  the  express  orders  of 
the  worshipful  Sir  John  de  Walton  that  the  soldiers  who 
he  at  outposts  should  afford  to  the  inmates  such  provi- 
sions as  are  not  necessary  for  their  own  subsistence.' 

'Hush,  Anthony  —  hush,  for  shame!'  replied  his 
fellow-soldier,  'if  ever  I  heard  our  host's  step,  I  heard  it 
this  instant;  so  give  over  thy  grumbling,  since  our  cap- 
tain, as  we  all  know,  hath  prohibited,  imder  strict 
penalties,  all  quarrels  between  his  followers  and  the 
people  of  the  country.' 

'I  am  sure,'  replied  Anthony,  'that  I  have  ministered 
occasion  to  none ;  but  I  would  I  were  equally  certain  of 
the  good  meaning  of  this  sullen-browed  Thomas  Dickson 
towards  the  EngHsh  soldiers,  for  I  seldom  go  to  bed  in  this 
dungeon  of  a  house  but  I  expect  my  throat  will  gape  as 
wide  as  a  thirsty  oyster  before  I  awaken.  Here  he  comes, 
however,'  added  Anthony,  sinking  his  sharp  tones  as  he 
spoke;  'and  I  hope  to  be  excommunicated  if  he  has  not 
brought  with  him  that  mad  animal,  his  son  Charles,  and 
two  other  strangers,  hungry  enough,  I'll  be  sworn,  to 
eat  up  the  whole  supper,  if  they  do  us  no  other  injury.' 

'Shame  of  thyself,  Anthony,'  repeated  his  comrade;  'a 

22 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

good  archer  thou  as  ever  wore  Kendal  green,  and  yet 
affect  to  be  frightened  for  two  tired  travellers,  and 
alarmed  for  the  inroad  their  hunger  may  make  on  the 
night's  meal.  There  are  four  or  five  of  us  here;  we  have 
our  bows  and  our  bills  within  reach,  and  scorn  to  be 
chased  from  our  supper,  or  cheated  out  of  our  share  of  it, 
by  a  dozen  Scotchmen,  whether  stationary  or  strollers. 
How  say'st  thou?'  he  added,  turning  to  Dickson  — 
'how  say  ye,  quartermaster?  it  is  no  secret  that,  by  the 
directions  given  to  our  post,  we  must  inquire  into  the 
occupations  of  such  guests  as  you  may  receive  besides 
ourselves,  your  unwilling  inmates;  you  are  as  ready  for 
supper,  I  warrant,  as  supper  is  for  you,  and  I  will  only 
delay  you  and  my  friend  Anthony,  who  becomes  dread- 
fully impatient,  until  you  answer  two  or  three  questions 
which  you  wot  of.' 

*Bend-the-Bow,'  answered  Dickson,  'thou  art  a  civil 
fellow;  and  although  it  is  something  hard  to  be  con- 
strained to  give  an  account  of  one's  friends,  because 
they  chance  to  quarter  in  one's  own  house  for  a  night  or 
two,  yet  I  must  submit  to  the  times,  and  make  no  vain 
opposition.  You  may  mark  down  in  your  breviary  there 
that,  upon  the  fourteenth  day  before  Palm  Sujnday, 
Thomas  Dickson  brought  to  his  house  of  Hazelside,  in 
which  you  hold  garrison,  by  orders  from  the  English 
governor.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  two  strangers,  to  whom 
the  said  Thomas  Dickson  had  promised  refreshment  and 
a  bed  for  the  evening,  if  it  be  lawful  at  this  time  and 
place.' 

'  But  what  are  they  —  these  strangers? '  said  Anthony, 
somewhat  sharply. 

'A  fine  world  the  while,'  murmured  Thomas  Dickson, 

23 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*that  an  honest  man  should  be  forced  to  answer  the 
questions  of  every  paltry  companion ! '  But  he  mitigated 
his  voice  and  proceeded  —  '  The  eldest  of  my  guests  is 
Bertram,  an  ancient  English  minstrel,  who  is  bound  on 
his  own  errand  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  and  will  com- 
municate what  he  has  to  say  of  news  to  Sir  John  de 
Walton  himself.  I  have  known  him  for  twenty  years, 
and  never  heard  anything  of  him  save  that  he  was  good 
man  and  true.  The  younger  stranger  is  his  son,  a  lad 
recovering  from  the  English  disorder,  which  has  been 
raging  far  and  wide  in  Westmoreland  and  Cumberland.' 

'Tell  me,'  said  Bend-the-Bow,  'this  same  Bertram, 
was  he  not  about  a  year  since  in  the  service  of  some 
noble  lady  in  our  own  country? ' 

'I  have  heard  so,'  answered  Dickson. 

'We  shall,  in  that  case,  I  think,  incur  little  danger,* 
replied  Bend-the-Bow,  'by  allowing  this  old  man  and  his 
son  to  proceed  on  their  journey  to  the  castle.' 

'  You  are  my  elder  and  my  better,'  answered  Anthony; 
'but  I  may  remind  you  that  it  is  not  so  clearly  our  duty 
to  give  free  passage  into  a  garrison  of  a  thousand  men  of 
all  ranks  to  a  youth  who  has  been  so  lately  attacked  by  a 
contagious  disorder;  and  I  question  if  our  commander 
would  not  rather  hear  that  the  Black  Douglas,  with  a 
hundred  devils  as  black  as  himself,  since  such  is  his 
colour,  had  taken  possession  of  the  outpost  of  Hazelside 
with  sword  and  battle-axe  than  that  one  person  suffering 
under  this  fell  sickness  had  entered  peaceably,  and  by 
the  opened  wicket  of  the  castle.' 

'There  is  something  in  what  thou  sayest,  Anthony/ 
replied  his  comrade;  'and  considering  that  our  governor, 
since  he  has  undertaken  the  troublesome  job  of  keeping 

24 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

a  castle  which  is  esteemed  so  much  more  dangerous  than 
any  other  within  Scotland,  has  become  one  of  the  most 
cautious  and  jealous  men  in  the  world,  we  had  better,  I 
think,  inform  him  of  the  circumstance,  and  take  his 
commands  how  the  stripling  is  to  be  dealt  with.' 

'Content  am  I,'  said  the  archer;  'and  first,  methinks, 
I  would  just,  in  order  to  show  that  we  know  what  be- 
longs to  such  a  case,  ask  the  stripling  a  few  questions,  as 
how  long  he  has  been  ill,  by  what  physicians  he  has  been 
attended,  when  he  was  cured,  and  how  his  cure  is 
certified,  etc' 

'True,  brother,'  said  Bend-the-Bow.  'Thou  hearest, 
minstrel,  we  would  ask  thy  son  some  questions.  What 
has  become  of  him?  He  was  in  this  apartment  but  now.' 

'So  please  you,'  answered  Bertram,  'he  did  but  pass 
through  the  apartment.  Mr.  Thomas  Dickson,  at  my 
entreaty,  as  well  as  in  respectful  reverence  to  your 
honour's  health,  carried  him  through  the  room  without 
tarriance,  judging  his  own  bed-chamber  the  fittest  place 
for  a  young  man  recovering  from  a  severe  illness,  and 
after  a  day  of  no  small  fatigue.' 

'Well,'  answered  the  elder  archer, '  though  it  is  uncom- 
mon for  men  who,  like  us,  live  by  bow-string  and  quiver, 
to  meddle  with  interrogations  and  examinations ;  yet,  as 
the  case  stands,  we  must  make  some  inquiries  of  your 
son  ere  we  permit  him  to  set  forth  to  the  Castle  of 
Douglas,  where  you  say  his  errand  leads  him.' 

'Rather  my  errand,  noble  sir,'  said  the  minstrel,  'than 
that  of  the  young  man  himself.' 

'If  such  be  the  case,'  answered  Bend-the-Bow,  'we 
may  sufficiently  do  our  duty  by  sending  yourself,  with 
the  first  grey  light  of  dawn,  to  the  castle,  and  letting 

25 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

your  son  remain  in  bed,  which  I  warrant  is  the  fittest 
place  for  him,  until  we  shall  receive  Sir  John  de  Walton's 
commands  whether  he  is  to  be  brought  onward  or  not.' 

'And  we  may  as  well,'  said  Anthony,  'since  we  are  to 
have  this  man's  company  at  supper,  make  him  ac- 
quainted with  the  rules  of  the  out  garrison  stationed 
here  for  the  time.'  So  saying,  he  pulled  a  scroll  from  his 
leathern  pouch,  and  said,  'Minstrel,  canst  thou  read?' 

'It  becomes  my  calling,'  said  the  minstrel. 

'It  has  nothing  to  do  with  mine,  though,'  answered 
the  archer, '  and  therefore  do  thou  read  these  regulations 
aloud;  for,  since  I  do  not  comprehend  these  characters 
by  sight,  I  lose  no  chance  of  having  them  read  over  to 
me  as  often  as  I  can,  that  I  may  fijj  their  sense  in  my 
memory.  So  beware  that  thou  readest  the  words  letter 
for  letter  as  they  are  set  down;  for  thou  dost  so  at  thy 
peril,  sir  minstrel,  if  thou  readest  not  like  a  true  man.' 

'On  my  minstrel  word,'  said  Bertram,  and  began  to 
read  excessively  slow,  for  he  wished  to  gain  a  little  time 
for  consideration,  which  he  foresaw  would  be  necessary 
to  prevent  his  being  separated  from  his  mistress,  which 
was  likely  to  occasion  her  much  anxiety  and  distress. 
He  therefore  began  thus:  '"Outpost  at  Hazelside,  the 
steading  of  Goodman  Thomas  Dickson."  Ay,  Thomas, 
and  is  thy  house  so  called? ' 

'It  is  the  ancient  name  of  the  steading,'  said  the  Scot, 
'being  surrounded  by  a  hazel-shaw,  or  thicket.' 

'Hold  your  chattering  tongue,  minstrel,'  said  An- 
thony, 'and  proceed,  as  you  value  that  or  your  ears, 
which  you  seem  disposed  to  make  less  use  of.' 

'"His  garrison,"'  proceeded  the  minstrel,  reading, 
'"consists  of  a  lance  with  its  furniture."  What,  then,  a 

26 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

lance,  in  other  words,  a  belted  knight,  commands  this 
party? ' 

*  'T  is  no  concern  of  thine,'  said  the  archer. 

'But  it  is,'  answered  the  minstrel:  'we  have  a  right  to 
be  examined  by  the  highest  person  in  presence/ 

*I  will  show  thee,  thou  rascal,'  said  the  archer,  start- 
ing up, '  that  I  am  lance  enough  for  thee  to  reply  to,  and 
I  will  break  thy  head  if  thou  say'st  a  word  more.' 

'Take  care,  brother  Anthony,'  said  his  comrade,  *we 
are  to  use  travellers  courteously  —  and,  with  your  leave, 
those  travellers  best  who  come  from  our  native  land.' 

'It  is  even  so  stated  here,'  said  the  minstrel,  and  he 
proceeded  to  read  —  '"The  watch  at  this  outpost  of 
Hazelside  ^  shall  stop  and  examine  all  travellers  passing 
by  the  said  station,  suffering  such  to  pass  onwards  to  the 
town  of  Douglas,  or  to  Douglas  Castle,  always  interro- 
gating them  with  civility,  and  detaining  and  turning 
them  back  if  there  arise  matter  of  suspicion;  but  con- 
ducting themselves  in  all  matters  civilly  and  courteously 
to  the  people  of  the  country,  and  to  those  who  travel  in 
it."  You  see,  most  excellent  and  valiant  archer,'  added 
the  commentator  Bertram,  'that  courtesy  and  civility 
are,  above  all,  recommended  to  your  worship  in  your 
conduct  towards  the  inhabitants,  and  those  passengers 
who,  hke  us,  may  chance  to  fall  under  your  rules  in  such 
matters.' 

'I  am  not  to  be  told  at  this  time  of  day,'  said  the 
archer,  'how  to  conduct  myself  in  the  discharge  of  my 
duties.  Let  me  advise  you,  sir  minstrel,  to  be  frank  and 
open  in  your  answers  to  our  inquiries,  and  you  shall  have 
no  reason  to  complain.' 

*  See  Note  2. 
27 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'I  hope,  at  all  events,'  said  the  minstrel, '  to  have  your 
favour  for  my  son,  who  is  a  delicate  stripling,  and  not 
accustomed  to  play  his  part  among  the  crew  which 
inhabit  this  wild  world.' 

'Well,'  continued  the  elder  and  more  civil  of  the  two 
archers,  *  if  thy  son  be  a  novice  in  this  terrestrial  naviga- 
tion, I  warrant  that  thou,  my  friend,  from  thy  look  and 
manner  of  speech,  hast  enough  of  skill  to  use  thy  com- 
pass. To  comfort  thee,  although  thou  must  thyself 
answer  the  questions  of  our  governor  or  deputy-gover- 
nor, in  order  that  he  may  see  there  is  no  offence  in  thee,  I 
think  there  may  be  permission  granted  for  thy  son's 
residing  here  in  the  convent  hard  by  —  where  the  nuns, 
by  the  way,  are  as  old  as  the  monks,  and  have  nearly  as 
long  beards,  so  thou  mayst  be  easy  about  thy  son's 
morals  —  until  thou  hast  done  thy  business  at  Douglas 
Castle,  and  art  ready  to  resume  thy  journey.' 

'If  such  permission,'  said  the  minstrel,  'can  be  ob- 
tained, I  should  be  better  pleased  to  leave  him  at  the 
abbey,  and  go  myself,  in  the  first  place,  to  take  the 
directions  of  your  commanding-officer.' 

'Certainly,'  answered  the  archer,  'that  will  be  the 
safest  and  best  w^ay;  and  with  a  piece  or  two  of  money 
thou  mayst  secure  the  protection  of  the  abbot.' 

'Thou  say'st  well,'  answered  the  minstrel;  'I  have 
known  life,  I  have  known  every  stile,  gap,  pathway,  and 
pass  of  this  wilderness  of  ours  for  some  thirty  years;  and 
he  that  cannot  steer  his  course  fairly  through  it  like  an 
able  seaman,  after  having  served  such  an  apprenticeship, 
can  hardly  ever  be  taught,  were  a  century  to  be  given 
him  to  learn  it  in.' 

'Since  thou  art  so  expert  a  mariner,'  answered  the 
28 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

archer  Anthony,  'thou  hast,  I  warrant  me,  met  in  thy 
wanderings  a  potation  called  a  morning's  draught,  which 
they  who  are  conducted  by  others  where  they  them- 
selves lack  experience  are  used  to  bestow  upon  those 
who  undertake  the  task  of  guide  upon  such  an  occasion? ' 

*I  understand  you,  sir,'  quoth  the  minstrel;  'and 
although  money,  or  "drink-geld,"  as  the  Fleming  caUs 
it,  is  rather  a  scarce  cormnodity  in  the  purse  of  one  of 
my  calling,  yet,  according  to  my  feeble  ability,  thou 
shalt  have  no  cause  to  complain  that  thine  eyes  or  those 
of  thy  comrades  have  been  damaged  by  a  Scottish  mist 
while  we  can  find  an  English  coin  to  pay  for  the  good 
liquor  which  should  wash  them  clear.' 

'Content,'  said  the  archer;  'we  now  understand  each 
other,  and  if  difl&culties  arise  on  the  road,  thou  shalt  not 
want  the  countenance  of  Anthony  to  sail  triumphantly 
through  them.  But  thou  hadst  better  let  thy  son  know 
soon  of  the  early  visit  to  the  abbot  to-morrow,  for  thou 
mayst  guess  that  we  cannot  and  dare  not  delay  our 
departure  for  the  convent  a  minute  after  the  eastern  sky 
is  ruddy;  and,  with  other  infirmities,  young  men  often 
are  prone  to  laziness  and  a  love  of  ease.' 

'Thou  shalt  have  no  reason  to  think  so,'  answered  the 
minstrel:  'not  the  lark  himself,  when  waked  by  the  first 
ray  peeping  over  the  black  cloud,  springs  more  lightly 
to  the  sky  than  will  my  Augustine  answer  the  same 
brilliant  summons.  And  now  we  understand  each  other, 
I  would  only  further  pray  you  to  forbear  Hght  talk  while 
my  son  is  in  your  company,  —  a  boy  of  innocent  life, 
and  timid  in  conversation.' 

'Nay,  jolly  minstrel,'  said  the  elder  archer,  'thou 
givest  us  here  too  gross  an  example  of  Satan  reproving 

29 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

sin.  If  thou  hast  followed  thy  craft  for  twenty  years,  as 
thou  pretendest,  thy  son,  having  kept  thee  company 
since  childhood,  must  by  this  time  be  fit  to  open  a  school 
to  teach  even  devils  the  practice  of  the  seven  deadly 
sins,  of  which  none  know  the  theory  if  those  of  the  gay 
science  are  lacking.' 

'Truly,  comrade,  thou  speakest  well,'  answered  Ber- 
tram, 'and  I  acknowledge  that  we  minstrels  are  too 
much  to  blame  in  this  matter.  Nevertheless,  in  good 
sooth,  the  fault  is  not  one  of  which  I  myself  am  particu- 
larly guilty;  on  the  contrary,  I  think  that  he  who  would 
wish  to  have  his  own  hair  honoured  when  time  has 
strewed  it  with  silver  should  so  rein  his  mirth  when  in 
the  presence  of  the  young  as  may  show  in  what  respect 
he  holds  innocence.  I  will,  therefore,  with  your  per- 
mission, speak  a  word  to  Augustine,  that  to-morrow  we 
must  be  on  foot  early.' 

'Do  so,  my  friend,'  said  the  English  soldier;  'and  do 
the  same  the  more  speedily  that  our  poor  supper  is  stiU 
awaiting  until  thou  art  ready  to  partake  of  it.' 

'To  which,  I  promise  thee,'  said  Bertram,  *I  am  dis- 
posed to  entertain  no  delay.' 

'Follow  me,  then,'  said  Dickson,  'and  I  will  show  thee 
where  this  young  bird  of  thine  has  his  nest.' 

Their  host  accordingly  tripped  up  the  wooden  stair, 
and  tapped  at  a  door,  which  he  thus  indicated  was  that 
of  his  younger  guest. 

'Your  father,'  continued  he,  as  the  door  opened, 
'would  speak  with  you,  Master  Augustine.' 

'Excuse  me,  my  host,'  answered  Augustine;  'the 
truth  is,  that  this  room  being  directly  above  your  eating- 
chamber,  and  the  flooring  not  in  the  best  possible  repair, 

30 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

I  have  been  compelled  to  the  unhandsome  practice  of 
eavesdropping,  and  not  a  word  has  escaped  me  that 
passed  concerning  my  proposed  residence  at  the  abbey, 
our  journey  to-morrow,  and  the  somewhat  early  hour  at 
which  I  must  shake  off  sloth,  and,  according  to  thy 
expression,  fly  down  from  the  roost.' 

*And  how  dost  thou  relish,'  said  Dickson,  *  being  left 
with  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride's  httle  flock  here?' 

'Why,  well,'  said  the  youth,  'if  the  abbot  is  a  man  of 
respectability  becoming  his  vocation,  and  not  one  of 
those  swaggering  churchmen  who  stretch  out  the 
sword,  and  bear  themselves  like  rank  soldiers  in  these 
troublous  times.' 

'For  that,  young  master,'  said  Dickson,  'if  you  let 
him  put  his  hand  deep  enough  into  your  purse,  he  will 
hardly  quarrel  with  anything.' 

'Then  I  will  leave  him  to  my  father,'  replied  Augus- 
tine, 'who  will  not  grudge  him  anything  he  asks  in 
reason.' 

'In  that  case,'  replied  the  Scotchman,  'you  may  trust 
to  our  abbot  for  good  accommodation;  and  so  both  sides 
are  pleased.' 

'It  is  well,  my  son,'  said  Bertram,  who  now  joined  in 
the  conversation;  'and  that  thou  mayst  be  ready  for  thy 
early  travelHng,  I  shall  presently  get  our  host  to  send 
thee  some  food,  after  partaking  of  which  thou  shouldst 
go  to  bed  and  sleep  off  the  fatigue  of  to-day,  since 
to-morrow  will  bring  work  for  itself.' 

'And  as  for  thy  engagement  to  these  honest  archers,' 
answered  Augustine, '  I  hope  you  will  be  able  to  do  what 
will  give  pleasure  to  our  guides,  if  they  are  disposed  to 
be  civil  and  true  men.' 

31 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*God  bless  thee,  my  child!'  answered  Bertram:  'thou 
knowest  already  what  would  drag  after  thy  beck  all  the 
English  archers  that  were  ever  on  this  side  of  the  Solway. 
There  is  no  fear  of  a  grey-goose  shaft,  if  you  sing  a 
reveillez  like  to  that  which  chimed  even  now  from  that 
silken  nest  of  dainty  young  goldfinches.' 

'Hold  me  as  in  readiness,  then,'  said  the  seeming 
youth,  'when  you  depart  to-morrow  morning.  I  am 
within  hearing,  I  suppose,  of  the  bells  of  St.  Bride's 
chapel,  and  have  no  fear,  through  my  sloth,  of  keeping 
you  or  your  company  waiting.' 

'Good-night,  and  God  bless  thee,  my  child!'  again 
said  the  minstrel;  'remember  that  your  father  sleeps 
not  far  distant,  and  on  the  sHghtest  alarm  will  not  fail 
to  be  with  you.  I  need  scarce  bid  thee  recommend 
thyself,  meantime,  to  the  great  Being  who  is  the  friend 
and  father  of  us  all.' 

The  pilgrim  thanked  his  supposed  father  for  his 
evening  blessing,  and  the  visitors  withdrew  without 
farther  speech  at  the  time,  leaving  the  young  lady  to 
those  engrossing  fears  which,  the  novelty  of  her  situa- 
tion and  the  native  delicacy  of  her  sex  being  considered, 
naturally  thronged  upon  her. 

The  tramp  of  a  horse's  foot  was  not  long  after  heard 
at  the  house  of  Hazelside,  and  the  rider  was  welcomed  by 
its  garrison  with  marks  of  respect.  Bertram  understood 
so  much  as  to  discover  from  the  conversation  of  the 
warders  that  this  late  arrival  was  Aymer  de  Valence,  the 
knight  who  commanded  the  Httle  party,  and  to  the 
furniture  of  whose  lance,  as  it  was  technically  called, 
belonged  the  archers  with  whom  we  have  already  been 
acquainted,  a  man-at-arms  or  two,  a  certain  proportion 

32 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

of  pages  or  grooms,  and,  in  short,  the  command  and 
guidance  of  the  garrison  at  Thomas  Dickson's,  while  in 
rank  he  was  deputy-governor  of  Douglas  Castle. 

To  prevent  all  suspicion  respecting  himself  and  his 
companion,  as  well  as  the  risk  of  the  latter  being  dis- 
turbed, the  minstrel  thought  it  proper  to  present  him- 
self to  the  inspection  of  this  knight,  the  great  authority 
of  the  little  place.  He  found  him,  with  as  Uttle  scruple 
as  the  archers  heretofore,  making  a  supper  off  the  relics 
of  the  roast-beef. 

Before  this  young  knight  Bertram  underwent  an 
examination,  while  an  old  soldier  took  down  in  writing 
such  items  of  information  as  the  examinate  thought 
proper  to  express  in  his  replies,  both  with  regard  to  the 
minutiae  of  his  present  journey,  his  business  at  Castle 
Douglas,  and  his  route  when  that  business  should  be 
accompHshed  —  a  much  more  minute  examination,  in  a 
word,  than  he  had  hitherto  undergone  by  the  archers,  or 
perhaps  than  was  quite  agreeable  to  him,  being  encum- 
bered with  at  least  the  knowledge  of  one  secret,  what- 
ever more.  Not  that  this  new  examinator  had  anything 
stern  or  severe  in  his  looks  or  his  questions.  As  to  the 
first,  he  was  mild,  gentle,  and  'meek  as  a  maid,'  and 
possessed  exactly  of  the  courteous  manners  ascribed  by 
our  father  Chaucer  to  the  pattern  of  chivalry  whom  he 
describes  upon  his  pilgrimage  to  Canterbury.  But,  with 
all  his  gentleness,  De  Valence  showed  a  great  degree  of 
acuteness  and  accuracy  in  his  queries ;  and  well  pleased 
was  Bertram  that  the  young  knight  did  not  insist  upon 
seeing  his  supposed  son,  although  even  in  that  case  his 
ready  wit  had  resolved,  like  a  seaman  in  a  tempest,  to 
sacrifice  one  part  to  preserve  the  rest.    He  was  not, 

«  33 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

however,  driven  to  this  extremity,  being  treated  by  Sir 
Aymer  with  that  degree  of  courtesy  which  in  that  age 
men  of  song  were  in  general  thought  entitled  to.  The 
knight  kindly  and  liberally  consented  to  the  lad's 
remaining  in  the  convent,  as  a  fit  and  quiet  residence  for 
a  stripling  and  an  invalid,  until  Sir  John  de  Walton 
should  express  his  pleasure  on  the  subject;  and  Sir 
Aymer  consented  to  this  arrangement  the  more  wil- 
lingly, as  it  averted  all  possible  danger  of  bringing 
disease  into  the  English  garrison. 

By  the  young  knight's  order,  all  in  Dickson's  house 
were  despatched  earHer  to  rest  than  usual;  the  matin 
bell  of  the  neighbouring  chapel  being  the  signal  for  their 
assembly  by  daybreak.  They  rendezvoused  accordingly, 
and  proceeded  to  St.  Bride's,  where  they  heard  mass, 
after  which  an  interview  took  place  between  the  abbot 
Jerome  and  the  minstrel,  in  which  the  former  undertook, 
with  the  permission  of  De  Valence,  to  receive  Augustine 
into  his  abbey  as  a  guest  for  a  few  days,  less  or  more,  and 
for  which  Bertram  promised  an  acknowledgment  in 
name  of  alms,  which  was  amply  satisfactory. 

*So  be  it,'  said  Bertram,  taking  leave  of  his  supposed 
son;  'rely  on  it  I  will  not  tarry  a  day  longer  at  Douglas 
Castle  than  shall  suffice  for  transacting  my  business 
there,  which  is  to  look  after  the  old  books  you  wot  of, 
and  I  will  speedily  return  for  thee  to  the  abbey  of  St. 
Bride,  to  resume  in  company  our  journey  homeward.* 

*0,  father,'  replied  the  youth,  with  a  smile,  *I  fear,  if 
you  get  among  romances  and  chronicles,  you  will  be  so 
earnest  in  your  researches  that  you  will  forget  poor 
Augustine  and  his  concerns.' 

'Never  fear  me,  Augustine,'  said  the  old  man,  making 

34 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

the  motion  of  throwing  a  kiss  towards  the  boy;  *  thou  art 
good  and  virtuous,  and  Heaven  will  not  neglect  thee 
were  thy  father  unnatural  enough  to  do  so.  BeHeve  me, 
all  the  old  songs  since  Merlin's  day  shall  not  make  me 
forget  thee.' 

Thus  they  separated,  the  minstrel,  with  the  EngHsh 
knight  and  his  retinue,  to  move  towards  the  castle,  and 
the  youth  in  dutiful  attendance  on  the  venerable  abbot, 
who  was  delighted  to  find  that  his  guest's  thoughts 
turned  rather  upon  spiritual  things  than  on  the  morning 
repast,  of  the  approach  of  which  he  could  not  help 
being  himself  sensible. 


CHAPTER  m 

This  night,  methinks,  is  but  the  daylight  sick; 
It  looks  a  little  paler.   'T  is  a  day, 
Such  as  the  day  is  when  the  sun  is  hid. 

Merchant  of  Venice. 

To  facilitate  the  progress  of  the  party  on  its  way  to 
Douglas  Castle,  the  knight  of  Valence  offered  the  minstrel 
the  convenience  of  a  horse,  which  the  fatigues  of  yes- 
terday made  him  gladly  accept.  Any  one  acquainted 
with  equestrian  exercise  is  aware  that  no  means  of 
refreshment  carries  away  the  sense  of  fatigue  from  over- 
walking  so  easily  as  the  exchange  to  riding,  which  calls 
into  play  another  set  of  muscles,  and  leaves  those 
which  have  been  over-exerted  an  opportunity  of  resting 
through  change  of  motion  more  completely  than  they 
could  in  absolute  repose.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  was 
sheathed  in  armour,  and  mounted  on  his  charger;  two  of 
the  archers,  a  groom  of  mean  rank,  and  a  squire,  who 
looked  in  his  day  for  the  honour  of  knighthood,  com- 
pleted the  detachment,  which  seemed  so  disposed  as  to 
secure  the  minstrel  from  escape  and  to  protect  him 
against  violence.  *  Not,'  said  the  young  knight,  address- 
ing himself  to  Bertram,  'that  there  is  usually  danger  in 
travelling  in  this  country,  any  more  than  in  the  most 
quiet  districts  of  England;  but  some  disturbances,  as 
you  may  have  learnt,  have  broken  out  here  within  this 
last  year,  and  have  caused  the  garrison  of  Castle  Doug- 
las to  maintain  a  stricter  watch.  But  let  us  move  on,  for 
the  complexion  of  the  day  is  congenial  with  the  original 

36 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

derivation  of  the  name  of  the  country,  and  the  descrip- 
tion of  the  chiefs  to  whom  it  belonged  —  ShoUo  Dhu 
Glass  (see  yon  dark  grey  man),  and  dark  grey  will  our 
route  prove  this  morning,  though  by  good  luck  it  is  not 
long.' 

The  morning  was  indeed  what  the  original  Gaelic 
words  impHed,  a  drizzly,  dark,  moist  day;  the  mist  had 
settled  upon  the  hills,  and  unrolled  itself  upon  brook, 
glade,  and  tarn,  and  the  spring  breeze  was  not  powerful 
enough  to  raise  the  veil,  though,  from  the  wild  sounds 
which  were  heard  occasionally  on  the  ridges,  and 
through  the  glens,  it  might  be  supposed  to  wail  at  a 
sense  of  its  own  inabihty.  The  route  of  the  travellers 
was  directed  by  the  course  which  the  river  had  ploughed 
for  itself  down  the  valley,  the  banks  of  which  bore  in 
general  that  dark  grey  livery  which  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence  had  intimated  to  be  the  prevalent  tint  of  the 
country.  Some  ineffectual  struggles  of  the  sun  shot  a  ray 
here  and  there  to  salute  the  peaks  of  the  hills;  yet  these 
were  unable  to  surmount  the  dulness  of  a  March  morn- 
ing, and,  at  so  early  an  hour,  produced  a  variety  of 
shades,  rather  than  a  gleam  of  brightness,  upon  the 
eastern  horizon.  The  view  was  monotonous  and  depres- 
sing, and  apparently  the  good  knight  Aymer  sought 
some  amusement  in  occasional  talk  with  Bertram,  who, 
as  was  usual  with  his  craft,  possessed  a  fund  of  knowl- 
edge and  a  power  of  conversation  well  suited  to  pass 
away  a  dull  morning.  The  minstrel,  well  pleased  to  pick 
up  such  information  as  he  might  be  able  concerning  the 
present  state  of  the  country,  embraced  every  opportu- 
nity of  sustaining  the  dialogue. 

*I  would  speak  with  you,  sir  minstrel,'  said  the  young 

37 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

knight.  '  If  thou  dost  not  find  the  air  of  this  morning  too 
harsh  for  thine  organs,  heartily  do  I  wish  thou  wouldst 
fairly  tell  me  what  can  have  induced  thee,  being,  as  thou 
seemest,  a  man  of  sense,  to  thrust  thyself  into  a  wild 
country  Hke  this,  at  such  a  time.  And  you,  my  masters,' 
addressing  the  archers  and  the  rest  of  the  party,  'me- 
thinks  it  would  be  as  fitting  and  seeming  if  you  reined 
back  your  steeds  for  a  horse's  length  or  so,  since  I  appre- 
hend you  can  travel  on  your  way  without  the  pastime  of 
minstrelsy.'  The  bowmen  took  the  hint,  and  fell  back, 
but,  as  was  expressed  by  their  grumbling  observations, 
by  no  means  pleased  that  there  seemed  little  chance  of 
their  overhearing  what  conversation  should  pass  be- 
tween the  young  knight  and  the  minstrel,  which  pro- 
ceeded as  follows :  — 

'I  am,  then,  to  understand,  good  minstrel,'  said  the 
knight,  'that  you,  who  have  in  your  time  borne  arms, 
and  even  followed  St.  George's  red-cross  banner  to  the 
Holy  Sepulchre,  are  so  little  tired  of  the  danger  attend- 
ing our  profession,  that  you  feel  yourself  attracted 
unnecessarily  to  regions  where  the  sword,  for  ever  loose 
in  its  scabbard,  is  ready  to  start  on  the  slightest  provo- 
cation? ' 

'It  would  be  hard,'  repHed  the  minstrel,  bluntly,  'to 
answer  such  a  question  in  the  affirmative ;  and  yet,  when 
you  consider  how  nearly  alHed  is  his  profession  who 
celebrates  deeds  of  arms  with  that  of  the  knight  who  per- 
forms them,  your  honour,  I  think,  will  hold  it  advisable 
that  a  minstrel  desirous  of  doing  his  devoir  should,  hke 
a  young  knight,  seek  the  truth  of  adventures  where  it  is 
to  be  found,  and  rather  visit  countries  where  the  knowl- 
edge is  preserved  of  high  and  noble  deeds  than  those 

38 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

lazy  and  quiet  realms  in  which  men  live  indolently,  and 
die  ignobly  in  peace,  or  by  sentence  of  law.  You  your- 
self, sir,  and  those  like  you,  who  hold  life  cheap  in 
respect  of  glory,  guide  your  course  through  this  world  on 
the  very  same  principle  which  brings  your  poor  rhyming 
servant  Bertram  from  a  far  province  of  Merry  England 
to  this  dark  country  of  rugged  Scotland  called  Douglas 
Dale.  You  long  to  see  adventures  worthy  of  notice,  and 
I  —  under  favour  for  naming  us  two  in  the  same  breath 
—  seek  a  scanty,  and  precarious,  but  not  a  dishonour- 
able, living  by  preparing  for  immortality,  as  well  as  I 
can,  the  particulars  of  such  exploits,  especially  the 
names  of  those  who  were  the  heroes  of  these  actions. 
Each,  therefore,  labours  in  his  vocation;  nor  can  the  one 
be  justly  wondered  at  more  than  the  other,  seeing  that, 
if  there  be  any  difference  in  the  degrees  of  danger  to 
which  both  the  hero  and  the  poet  are  exposed,  the 
courage,  strength,  arms,  and  address  of  the  valiant 
knight  render  it  safer  for  him  to  venture  into  scenes  of 
peril  than  for  the  poor  man  of  rhyme.' 

'You  say  well,'  answered  the  warrior;  'and  although 
it  is  something  of  novelty  to  me  to  hear  your  craft  repre- 
sented as  upon  a  level  with  my  own  mode  of  life,  yet 
shame  were  it  to  say  that  the  minstrel  who  toils  so  much 
to  keep  in  memory  the  feats  of  gallant  knights  should 
not  himself  prefer  fame  to  existence,  and  a  single 
achievement  of  valour  to  a  whole  age  without  a  name, 
or  to  affirm  that  he  follows  a  mean  and  unworthy  pro- 
fession.' 

'Your  worship  will  then  acknowledge,'  said  the  min- 
strel, 'that  it  is  a  legitimate  object  in  such  as  myself, 
who,  simple  as  I  am,  have  taken  my  regular  degrees 

39 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

among  the  professors  of  the  gay  science  at  the  capital 
town  of  Aigues-Mortes,  to  struggle  forward  into  this 
Northern  district,  where  I  am  well  assured  many  things 
have  happened  which  have  been  adapted  to  the  harp  by 
minstrels  of  great  fame  in  ancient  days,  and  have  be- 
come the  subject  of  lays  which  lie  deposited  in  the  li- 
brary of  Castle  Douglas,  where,  unless  copied  over  by 
some  one  who  understands  the  old  British  characters 
and  language,  they  must,  with  whatever  they  may 
contain,  whether  of  entertainment  or  edification,  be 
speedily  lost  to  posterity.  If  these  hidden  treasures 
were  preserved  and  recorded  by  the  minstrel  art  of  my 
poor  self  and  others,  it  might  be  held  well  to  compensate 
for  the  risk  of  a  chance  blow  of  a  broadsword,  or  the 
sweep  of  a  brown-bill,  received  while  I  am  engaged  in 
collecting  them ;  and  I  were  unworthy  of  the  name  of  a 
man,  much  more  of  an  inventor  or  finder,^  should  I 
weigh  the  loss  of  life,  a  commodity  always  so  uncer- 
tain, against  the  chance  of  that  immortahty  which  will 
survive  in  my  lay  after  my  broken  voice  and  shivered 
harp  shall  no  longer  be  able  either  to  express  tune  or 
accompany  tale.' 

'Certainly,'  said  Sir  Aymer,  *  having  a  heart  to  feel 
such  a  motive,  you  have  an  undoubted  right  to  express 
it;  nor  should  I  have  been  in  any  degree  disposed  to 
question  it  had  I  found  many  minstrels  prepared,  like 
yourself,  to  prefer  renown  even  to  life  itself,  which  most 
men  think  of  greatly  more  consequence.' 

*  There  are,  indeed,  noble  sir,'  replied  Bertram,  'min- 
strels, and,  with  your  reverence,  even  belted  knights 
themselves,  who  do  not  sufficiently  value  that  renown 
*  See  Note  3. 
40 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

which  is  acquired  at  the  risk  of  life.  To  such  ignoble 
men  we  must  leave  their  own  reward :  let  us  abandon  to 
them  earth,  and  the  things  of  earth,  since  they  cannot 
aspire  to  that  glory  which  is  the  best  reward  of  others.' 

The  minstrel  uttered  these  last  words  with  such 
enthusiasm  that  the  knight  drew  his  bridle  and  stood 
fronting  Bertram,  with  his  countenance  kindling  at  the 
same  theme,  on  which,  after  a  short  silence,  he  expressed 
himself  with  a  like  vivacity. 

*Well  fare  thy  heart,  gay  companion!  I  am  happy  to 
see  there  is  still  so  much  enthusiasm  surviving  in  the 
world.  Thou  hast  fairly  won  the  minstrel  groat;  and  if  I 
do  not  pay  it  in  conformity  to  my  sense  of  thy  merit,  it 
shall  be  the  fault  of  dame  Fortune,  who  has  graced  my 
labours  in  these  Scottish  wars  with  the  niggard  pay  of 
Scottish  money.  A  gold  piece  or  two  there  must  be 
remaining  of  the  ransom  of  one  French  knight  whom 
chance  threw  into  my  hands,  and  that,  my  friend,  shall 
surely  be  thine  own;  and  hark  thee,  I,  Aymer  de  Valence, 
who  now  speak  to  thee,  am  born  of  the  noble  house  of 
Pembroke;  and  though  now  landless,  shall,  by  the  grace 
of  Our  Lady,  have  in  time  a  fitting  estabhshment, 
wherein  I  will  find  room  for  a  minstrel  like  thee,  if  thy 
talents  have  not  by  that  time  found  thee  a  better  patron.' 

'Thank  thee,  noble  knight,'  said  the  minstrel,  *  as  well 
for  thy  present  intentions  as  I  hope  I  shall  for  thy  future 
performance;  but  I  may  say  with  truth  that  I  have  not 
the  sordid  inclination  of  many  of  my  brethren.' 

*  He  who  partakes  the  true  thirst  of  noble  fame,'  said 
the  young  knight,  '  can  have  little  room  in  his  heart  for 
the  love  of  gold.  But  thou  hast  not  yet  told  me,  friend 
minstrel,  what  are  the  motives,  in  particular,  which 

41 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

have  attracted  thy  wandering  steps  to  this  wild  coun- 
try?' 

'Were  I  to  do  so/  replied  Bertram,  rather  desirous  to 
avoid  the  question,  as  in  some  respects  too  nearly  bor- 
dering on  the  secret  purpose  of  his  journey,  'it  might 
sound  like  a  studied  panegyric  on  thine  own  bold  deeds, 
sir  knight,  and  those  of  your  companions-in-arms;  and 
such  adulation,  minstrel  as  I  am,  I  hate  Uke  an  empty 
cup  at  a  companion's  lips.  But  let  me  say  in  few  words, 
that  Douglas  Castle,  and  the  deeds  of  valour  which  it 
has  witnessed,  have  sounded  wide  through  England; 
nor  is  there  a  gallant  knight  or  trusty  minstrel  whose 
heart  does  not  throb  at  the  name  of  the  stronghold, 
which  in  former  days  the  foot  of  an  EngHshman  never 
entered,  except  in  hospitality.  There  is  a  magic  in  the 
very  names  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence,  the  gallant  defenders  of  a  place  so  often  won 
back  by  its  ancient  lords,  and  with  such  circumstances 
of  valour  and  cruelty  that  it  bears  in  England  the  name 
of  the  Dangerous  Castle.' 

'Yet  I  would  fain  hear,'  answered  the  knight,  'your 
own  minstrel  account  of  those  legends  which  have 
induced  you,  for  the  amusement  of  future  times,  to  visit 
a  country  which,  at  this  period,  is  so  distracted  and 
perilous.' 

'  If  you  can  endure  the  length  of  a  minstrel  tale,'  said 
Bertram, '  I  for  one  am  always  amused  by  the  exercise  of 
my  vocation,  and  have  no  objection  to  tell  my  story, 
provided  you  do  not  prove  an  impatient  listener.' 

'Nay,  for  that  matter,'  said  the  young  knight,  'a  fair 
listener  thou  shalt  have  of  me;  and  if  my  reward  be  not 
great,  my  attention  at  least  shall  be  remarkable.' 

42 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

*And  he,'  said  the  minstrel,  'must  be  a  poor  gleeman 
who  does  not  hold  himself  better  paid  with  that  than 
with  gold  or  silver,  were  the  pieces  EngHsh  rose-nobles. 
On  this  condition,  then,  I  begin  a  long  story,  which  may, 
in  one  or  other  of  its  details,  find  subject  for  better  min- 
strels than  myself,  and  be  listened  to  by  such  warriors 
as  you  hundreds  of  years  hence.* 


CHAPTER  IV 

While  many  a  merry  lay  and  many  a  song 

Cheer'd  the  rough  road,  we  wish'd  the  rough  road  long; 

The  rough  road,  then  returning  in  a  round, 

Marl^'d  their  impatient  steps,  for  all  was  fairy  ground. 

Dk.  JoHNSon. 

'It  was  about  the  year  of  redemption  one  thousand  two 
hundred  and  eighty-five  years,'  began  the  minstrel, 
'when  King  Alexander  the  Third  of  Scotland  lost  his 
daughter  Margaret,  whose  only  child,  of  the  same  name, 
called  the  Maiden  of  Norway,  as  her  father  was  king  of 
that  country,  became  the  heiress  of  this  kingdom  of 
Scotland,  as  well  as  of  her  father's  crown.  An  unhappy 
death  was  this  for  Alexander,  who  had  no  nearer  heirs 
left  of  his  own  body  than  this  grandchild.  She  indeed 
might  claim  his  kingdom  by  birthright,  but  the  diffi- 
culty of  establishing  such  a  claim  of  inheritance  must 
have  been  anticipated  by  all  who  bestowed  a  thought 
upon  the  subject.  The  Scottish  king,  therefore,  en- 
deavoured to  make  up  for  his  loss  by  replacing  his  late 
queen,  who  was  an  English  princess,  sister  of  our  Edward 
the  First,  with  Juletta,  daughter  of  the  Count  de  Dreux. 
The  solemnities  at  the  nuptial  ceremony,  which  took 
place  in  the  town  of  Jedburgh,  were  very  great  and 
remarkable,  and  particularly  when,  amidst  the  display 
of  a  pageant  which  was  exhibited  on  the  occasion,  a 
ghastly  spectre  made  its  appearance  in  the  form  of  a 
skeleton,  as  the  King  of  Terrors  is  said  to  be  represented. 
Your  worship  is  free  to  laugh  at  this,  if  you  think  it  a 

44 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

proper  subject  for  mirth;  but  men  are  alive  who  viewed 
it  with  their  own  eyes,  and  the  event  showed  too  well  of 
what  misfortunes  this  apparition  was  the  singular 
prognostication.' 

'I  have  heard  the  story,'  said  the  knight;  'but  the 
monk  who  told  it  me  suggested  that  the  figure,  though 
unhappily  chosen,  was  perhaps  purposely  introduced 
as  a  part  of  the  pageant.' 

'I  know  not  that,'  said  the  minstrel,  drily;  *but  there 
is  no  doubt  that  shortly  after  this  apparition  King 
Alexander  died,  to  the  great  sorrow  of  his  people.  The 
Maid  of  Norway,  his  heiress,  speedily  followed  her 
grandfather  to  the  grave,  and  our  English  king,  sir 
knight,  raked  up  a  claim  of  dependency  and  homage  due, 
he  said,  by  Scotland,  which  neither  the  lawyers,  nobles, 
priests,  nor  the  very  minstrels  of  Scotland  had  ever 
before  heard  of.' 

'Now,  beshrew  me,'  interrupted  Sir  Aymer  de  Val- 
ence, '  this  is  beyond  bargain.  I  agreed  to  hear  your  tale 
with  patience,  but  I  did  not  pledge  myself  that  it  should 
contain  matter  to  the  reproach  of  Edward  the  First,  of 
blessed  memory;  nor  will  I  permit  his  name  to  be  men- 
tioned in  my  hearing  without  the  respect  due  to  his  high 
rank  and  noble  qualities,' 

'Nay,'  said  the  minstrel,  'I  am  no  Highland  bagpiper 
or  genealogist,  to  carry  respect  for  my  art  so  far  as  to 
quarrel  with  a  man  of  worship  who  stops  me  at  the 
beginning  of  a  pibroch.  I  am  an  Englishman,  and  wish 
dearly  well  to  my  country;  and,  above  all,  I  must  speak 
the  truth.  But  I  will  avoid  disputable  topics.  Your  age, 
sir,  though  none  of  the  ripest,  authorises  me  to  suppose 
you  may  have  seen  the  battle  of  Falkirk,  and  other 

45 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

onslaughts  in  which  the  competition  of  Bruce  and  Baliol 
has  been  fiercely  agitated,  and  you  will  permit  me  to  say 
that,  if  the  Scottish  have  not  had  the  right  upon  their 
side,  they  have  at  least  defended  the  wrong  with  the 
efforts  of  brave  men  and  true.' 

*0f  brave  men,  I  grant  you,'  said  the  knight,  'for  I 
have  seen  no  cowards  amongst  them;  but  as  for  truth, 
they  can  best  judge  of  it  who  know  how  often  they  have 
sworn  faith  to  England,  and  how  repeatedly  they  have 
broken  their  vow.' 

*I  shall  not  stir  the  question,'  said  the  minstrel,  'leav- 
ing it  to  your  worship  to  determine  which  has  most 
falsehood,  he  who  compels  a  weaker  person  to  take  an 
unjust  oath,  or  he  who,  compelled  by  necessity,  takes 
the  imposed  oath  without  the  intention  of  keeping  his 
word.' 

'Nay  —  nay,'  said  De  Valence,  'let  us  keep  our 
opinions,  for  we  are  not  likely  to  force  each  other  from 
the  faith  we  have  adopted  on  this  subject.  But  take 
my  advice,  and,  whilst  thou  travellest  under  an  English 
pennon,  take  heed  that  thou  keepestofif  this  conversation 
in  the  hall  and  kitchen,  where  perhaps  the  soldier  may 
be  less  tolerant  than  the  officer.  And  now,  in  a  word, 
what  is  thy  legend  of  this  Dangerous  Castle?' 

'For  that,'  replied  Bertram,  'methinks  your  worship 
is  most  likely  to  have  a  better  edition  than  I,  who  have 
not  been  in  this  country  for  many  years;  but  it  is  not  for 
me  to  bandy  opinions  with  your  knightship.  I  will  even 
proceed  with  the  tale  as  I  have  heard  it.  I  need  not,  I 
presume,  inform  your  worship  that  the  Lords  of  Doug- 
las, who  founded  this  castle,  are  second  to  no  lineage  in 
Scotland  in  the  antiquity  of  their  descent.  Nay,  they 

46 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

have  themselves  boasted  that  their  family  is  not  to  be 
seen  or  distinguished,  like  other  great  houses,  until  it  is 
found  at  once  in  a  certain  degree  of  eminence.  "You 
may  see  us  in  the  tree,"  they  say,  "you  cannot  discover 
us  in  the  twig;  you  may  see  us  in  the  stream,  you  cannot 
trace  us  to  the  fountain."  In  a  word,  they  deny  that 
historians  or  genealogists  can  point  out  the  first  mean 
man  named  Douglas  who  originally  elevated  the  family ; 
and  true  it  is  that,  so  far  back  as  we  have  known  this 
race,  they  have  always  been  renowned  for  valour  and 
enterprise,  accompanied  with  the  power  which  made 
that  enterprise  effectual.' 

'Enough,'  said  the  knight,  'I  have  heard  of  the  pride 
and  power  of  that  great  family,  nor  does  it  interest  me  in 
the  least  to  deny  or  detract  from  their  bold  claims  to 
consideration  in  this  respect.' 

'Without  doubt  you  must  also  have  heard,  noble  sir,' 
replied  the  minstrel,  'many  things  of  James,  the  present 
heir  of  the  house  of  Douglas? ' 

'More  than  enough,'  answered  the  English  knight;  'he 
is  known  to  have  been  a  stout  supporter  of  that  out- 
lawed traitor,  William  Wallace;  and  again,  upon  the 
first  raising  of  the  banner  by  this  Robert  Bruce,  who 
pretends  to  be  King  of  Scotland,  this  young  springald, 
James  Douglas,  must  needs  start  into  rebellion  anew. 
He  plunders  his  uncle,  the  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews, 
of  a  considerable  sum  of  money  to  fill  the  Scottish 
usurper's  not  over-burdened  treasury,  debauches  the 
servants  of  his  relation,  takes  arms,  and,  though  repeat- 
edly chastised  in  the  field,  still  keeps  his  vaunt,  and 
threatens  mischief  to  those  who,  in  the  name  of  his 
rightful  sovereign,  defend  the  Castle  of  Douglas  Dale.' 

47 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*It  is  your  pleasure  to  say  so,  sir  knight,'  replied 
Bertram;  'yet  I  am  sure,  were  you  a  Scot,  you  would 
with  patience  hear  me  tell  over  what  has  been  said  of 
this  young  man  by  those  who  have  known  him,  and 
whose  account  of  his  adventures  shows  how  differently 
the  same  tale  may  be  told.  These  men  talk  of  the  pres- 
ent heir  of  this  ancient  family  as  fully  adequate  to  main- 
tain and  augment  its  reputation;  ready,  indeed,  to 
undergo  every  peril  in  the  cause  of  Robert  the  Bruce, 
because  the  Bruce  is  esteemed  by  him  his  lawful  king; 
and  sworn  and  devoted,  with  such  small  strength  as  he 
can  muster,  to  revenge  himself  on  those  Southrons  who 
have,  for  several  years,  as  he  thinks,  unjustly  possessed 
themselves  of  his  father's  abode.' 

'O,'  replied  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  'we  have  heard 
much  of  his  achievements  in  this  respect,  and  of  his 
threats  against  our  governor  and  ourselves ;  yet  we  think 
it  scarce  likely  that  Sir  John  de  Walton  will  move  from 
Douglas  Dale  without  the  King's  order,  although  this 
James  Douglas,  a  mere  chicken,  take  upon  himself  to 
crack  his  voice  by  crowing  like  a  cock  of  the  game.' 

'Sir,'  answered  Bertram,  'our  acquaintance  is  but 
brief,  and  yet  I  feel  it  has  been  so  beneficial  to  me,  that  I 
trust  there  is  no  harm  in  hoping  that  James  Douglas 
and  you  may  never  meet  in  bodily  presence  till  the 
state  of  the  two  countries  shall  admit  of  peace  being 
between  you.' 

'Thou  art  obliging,  friend,'  answered  Sir  Aymer,  'and, 
I  doubt  not,  sincere;  and  truly  thou  seemest  to  have  a 
wholesome  sense  of  the  respect  due  to  this  young  knight 
when  men  talk  of  him  in  his  native  valley  of  Douglas. 
For  me,  I  am  only  poor  Aymer  of  Valence,  without  an 

48 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

acre  of  land,  or  much  hope  of  acquiring  any,  unless  1 
cut  something  huge  with  my  broadsword  out  of  the 
middle  of  these  hills.  Only  this,  good  minstrel,  if  thou 
livest  to  tell  my  story,  may  I  pray  thee  to  use  thy  scrupu- 
lous custom  of  searching  out  the  verity,  and  whether 
I  live  or  die  thou  shalt  not,  I  think,  discover  that  thy 
late  acquaintance  of  a  spring  morning  hath  added  more 
to  the  laurels  of  James  of  Douglas  than  any  man's 
death  must  give  to  him  by  whose  stronger  arm,  or 
more  lucky  chance,  it  is  his  lot  to  fall.' 

*  I  nothing  fear  you,  sir  knight,'  said  the  minstrel,  'for 
yours  is  that  happy  brain  which,  bold  in  youth  as  be- 
seems a  young  knight,  is  in  more  advanced  life  the 
happy  source  of  prudent  counsel,  of  which  I  would  not, 
by  an  early  death,  wish  thy  country  to  be  deprived.' 

*  Thou  art  so  candid,  then,  as  to  wish  Old  England  the 
benefit  of  good  advice,'  said  Sir  Aymer,  'though  thou 
leanest  to  the  side  of  Scotland  in  the  controversy? ' 

'Assuredly,  sir  knight,'  said  the  minstrel,  'since,  in 
wishing  that  Scotland  and  England  each  knew  their 
own  true  interest,  I  am  bound  to  wish  them  both  alike 
well ;  and  they  should,  I  think,  desire  to  live  in  friend- 
ship together.  Occupying  each  their  own  portion  of  the 
same  island,  and  living  under  the  same  laws,  and  being 
at  peace  with  each  other,  they  might,  without  fear,  face 
the  enmity  of  the  whole  world.' 

'If  thy  faith  be  so  liberal,'  answered  the  knight,  'as 
becomes  a  good  man,  thou  must  certainly  pray,  sir 
minstrel,  for  the  success  of  England  in  the  war,  by 
which  alone  these  murderous  hostilities  of  the  Northern 
nation  can  end  in  a  solid  peace.  The  rebellions  of  this 
obstinate  country  are  but  the  struggles  of  the  stag  when 

45  49 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

he  is  mortally  wounded:  the  animal  grows  weaker  and 
weaker  with  every  struggle,  till  his  resistance  is  eflfect- 
ually  tamed  by  the  hand  of  death.' 

'Not  so,  sir  knight,'  said  the  minstrel;  'if  my  creed  is 
well  taught  me,  we  ought  not  so  to  pray.  We  may, 
without  offence,  intimate  in  our  prayers  the  end  we 
wish  to  obtain;  but  it  is  not  for  us  poor  mortals  to 
point  out  to  an  all-seeing  Providence  the  precise  man- 
ner in  which  our  petitions  are  to  be  accomplished,  or  to 
wish  the  downfall  of  a  country  to  end  its  commotions,  as 
the  death-stab  terminates  the  agonies  of  the  wounded 
stag.  Whether  I  appeal  to  my  heart  or  to  my  under- 
standing, the  dictate  would  be  to  petition  Heaven  for 
what  is  just  and  equal  in  the  case ;  and  if  I  should  fear  for 
thee,  sir  knight,  in  an  encounter  with  James  of  Douglas, 
it  is  only  because  he  upholds,  as  I  conceive,  the  better 
side  of  the  debate,  and  powers  more  than  earthly  have 
presaged  to  him  success.' 

'Do  you  tell  me  so,  sir  minstrel,'  said  De  Valence  in  a 
threatening  tone,  'knowing  me  and  my  oflSce?' 

'Your  personal  dignity  and  authority,'  said  Bertram, 
*  cannot  change  the  right  into  wrong,  or  avert  what 
Providence  has  decreed  to  take  place.  You  know,  I 
must  presume,  that  the  Douglas  hath,  by  various  de- 
vices, already  contrived  to  make  himself  master  of  this 
Castle  of  Douglas  three  several  times,  and  that  Sir  John 
de  Walton,  the  present  governor,  holds  it  with  a  garrison 
trebled  in  force,  and  under  the  assurance  that  if,  with- 
out surprise,  he  should  keep  it  from  the  Scottish  power 
for  a  year  and  a  day,  he  shall  obtain  the  barony  of 
Douglas,  with  its  extensive  appendages,  in  free  prop- 
erty for  his  reward;  while,  on  the  other  hand,  if  he  shall 

so 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

suffer  the  fortress  during  this  space  to  be  taken,  either 
by  guile  or  by  open  force,  as  has  happened  successively 
to  the  holders  of  the  Dangerous  Castle,  he  will  become 
liable  to  dishonour  as  a  knight  and  to  attainder  as  a 
subject;  and  the  chiefs  who  take  share  with  him  and 
serve  under  him  will  participate  also  in  his  guilt  and  his 
punishment.' 

'All  this  I  know  well,'  said  Sir  Aymer;  'and  I  only 
wonder  that,  having  become  public,  the  conditions 
have,  nevertheless,  been  told  with  so  much  accuracy; 
but  what  has  this  to  do  with  the  issue  of  the  combat,  if 
the  Douglas  and  I  should  chance  to  meet?  I  will  not 
surely  be  disposed  to  fight  with  less  animation  because 
I  wear  my  fortune  upon  my  sword,  or  become  coward 
because  I  fight  for  a  portion  of  the  Douglas's  estate, 
as  well  as  for  fame  and  for  fatherland?  And  after 
all—' 

'Hear  me,'  said  the  minstrel;  'an  ancient  gleeman  has 
said  that  in  a  false  quarrel  there  is  no  true  valour,  and 
the  los  or  praise  won  therein  is,  when  balanced  against 
honest  fame,  as  valueless  as  a  wreath  formed  out  of 
copper  compared  to  a  chaplet  of  pure  gold;  but  I  bid 
you  not  take  me  for  thy  warrant  in  this  important 
question.  Thou  well  knowest  how  James  of  Thirlwall, 
the  last  English  commander  before  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
was  surprised,  and  the  castle  sacked  with  circumstances 
of  great  inhumanity.' 

'Truly,'  said  Sir  Aymer,  'I  think  that  Scotland  and 
England  both  have  heard  of  that  onslaught,  and  of  the 
disgusting  proceedings  of  the  Scottish  chieftain,  when 
he  caused  transport  into  the  wild  forest  gold,  silver, 
ammunition,  and  armour,  and  all  things  that  could  be 

SI 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

easily  removed,  and  destroyed  a  large  quantity  of  pro- 
visions, in  a  manner  equally  savage  and  unheard  of.' 

'Perhaps,  sir  knight,'  said  Bertram,  'you  were  your- 
self an  eyewitness  of  that  transaction,  which  has  been 
spoken  of  far  and  wide,  and  is  called  the  Douglas 
Larder? ' 

'I  saw  not  the  actual  accomplishment  of  the  deed,* 
said  De  Valence  —  '  that  is,  I  witnessed  it  not  a-doing 
—  but  I  beheld  enough  of  the  sad  relics  to  make  the 
Douglas  Larder  never  by  me  to  be  forgotten  as  a  record 
of  horror  and  abomination.  I  would  speak  it  truly,  by 
the  hand  of  my  father  and  by  my  honour  as  a  knight ! 
and  I  will  leave  it  to  thee  to  judge  whether  it  was  a  deed 
calculated  to  secure  the  smiles  of  Heaven  in  favour  of 
the  actors.  This  is  my  edition  of  the  story:  — 

*  A  large  quantity  of  provisions  had  during  two  years 
or  thereabouts  been  collected  from  different  points,  and 
the  castle  of  Douglas,  newly  repaired,  and,  as  was 
thought,  carefully  guarded,  was  appointed  as  the  place 
where  the  said  provisions  were  to  be  put  in  store  for  the 
service  of  the  King  of  England,  or  of  the  Lord  Clifford, 
whichever  should  first  enter  the  western  marches  with 
an  English  army,  and  stand  in  need  of  such  a  supply. 
This  army  was  also  to  relieve  our  wants  —  I  mean 
those  of  my  uncle  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  who  for  some 
time  before  had  lain  with  a  considerable  force  in  the 
town  called  Ayr,  near  the  old  Caledonian  Forest,  and 
where  we  had  hot  wars  with  the  insurgent  Scots.  Well, 
sir,  it  happened,  as  in  similar  cases,  that  Thirlwall, 
though  a  bold  and  active  soldier,  was  surprised  in  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,  about  Hallowmass,  by  this  same 
worthy,   young  James  Douglas.    In  no   very   good 

52 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

humour  was  he,  as  you  may  suppose;  for  his  father, 
called  William  the  Hardy,  or  William  Long-legs,  having 
refused,  on  any  terms,  to  become  Anglicised,  was  made 
a  lawful  prisoner,  and  died  as  such,  closely  confined  in 
Berwick,  or,  as  some  say,  in  Newcastle.  The  news  of  his 
father's  death  had  put  young  Douglas  into  no  small 
rage,  and  tended,  I  think,  to  suggest  what  he  did  in  his 
resentment.  Embarrassed  by  the  quantity  of  provi- 
sions which  he  found  in  the  castle,  which,  the  English 
being  superior  in  the  country,  he  had  neither  the  means 
to  remove  nor  the  leisure  to  stay  and  consume,  the 
fiend,  as  I  think,  inspired  him  with  a  contrivance  to 
render  them  unfit  for  human  use.  You  shall  judge 
yourself  whether  it  was  likely  to  be  suggested  by  a  good 
or  an  evil  spirit. 

'According  to  this  device,  the  gold,  silver,  and  other 
transportable  commodities  being  carried  to  secret 
places  of  safety,  Douglas  caused  the  meat,  the  malt, 
and  other  corn  or  grain,  to  be  brought  down  into  the 
castle  cellar,  where  he  emptied  the  contents  of  the  sacks 
into  one  loathsome  heap,  striking  out  the  heads  of  the 
barrels  and  puncheons,  so  as  to  let  the  mingled  drink 
run  through  the  heap  of  meal,  grain,  and  so  forth.  The 
bullocks  provided  for  slaughter  were  in  like  manner 
knocked  on  the  head,  and  their  blood  suffered  to  drain 
into  the  mass  of  edible  substances ;  and  lastly,  the  flesh 
of  these  oxen  was  buried  in  the  same  mass,  in  which 
were  also  included  the  dead  bodies  of  those  in  the  castle, 
who,  receiving  no  quarter  from  the  Douglas,  paid  dear 
enough  for  having  kept  no  better  watch.  This  base  and 
unworthy  abuse  of  provisions  intended  for  the  use  of 
man,  together  with  throwing  into  the  well  of  the  castle 

53 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

carcasses  of  men  and  horses,  and  other  filth  for  pollut- 
ing the  same,  has  since  that  time  been  called  the 
Douglas  Larder.' 

'I  pretend  not,  good  Sir  Aymer,'  said  the  minstrel,  'to 
vindicate  what  you  justly  reprove,  nor  can  I  conceive 
any  mode  of  rendering  provisions  arranged  after  the  form 
of  the  Douglas  Larder  proper  for  the  use  of  any  Chris- 
tian; yet  this  young  gentleman  might  perhaps  act  under 
the  sting  of  natural  resentment,  rendering  his  singular 
exploit  more  excusable  than  it  may  seem  at  first.  Think, 
if  your  own  noble  father  had  just  died  in  a  lingering  cap- 
tivity, his  inheritance  seized  upon,  and  occupied  as  a 
garrison  by  a  foreign  enemy,  would  not  these  things  stir 
you  to  a  mode  of  resentment  which,  in  cold  blood,  and 
judging  of  it  as  the  action  of  an  enemy,  your  honour 
might  hold  in  natural  and  laudable  abhorrence?  Would 
you  pay  respect  to  dead  and  senseless  objects,  which  no 
one  could  blame  your  appropriating  to  your  own  use,  or 
even  scruple  the  refusal  of  quarter  to  prisoners,  which  is 
so  often  practised  even  in  wars  which  are  otherwise 
termed  fair  and  humane?' 

'You  press  me  close,  minstrel,'  said  Aymer de  Valence. 
'I  at  least  have  no  great  interest  to  excuse  the  Douglas 
in  this  matter,  since  its  consequences  were  that  I  myself, 
and  the  rest  of  my  uncle's  host,  laboured  with  Clifford 
and  his  army  to  rebuild  this  same  Dangerous  Castle;  and 
feeling  no  stomach  for  the  cheer  that  the  Douglas  had 
left  us,  we  suffered  hard  commons,  though  I  acknow- 
ledge we  did  not  hesitate  to  adopt  for  our  own  use  such 
sheep  and  oxen  as  the  miserable  Scots  had  still  left 
around  their  farm-houses;  and  I  jest  not,  sir  minstrel, 
when  I  acknowledge  in  sad  earnest  that  we  martial  men 

54 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

ought  to  make  our  petitions  with  peculiar  penitence  to 
Heaven  for  mercy,  when  we  reflect  on  the  various  mis- 
eries which  the  nature  of  our  profession  compels  us  to 
inflict  upon  each  other.' 

'It  seems  to  me/  answered  the  minstrel,  Hhat  those 
who  feel  the  stings  of  their  own  conscience  should  be 
more  lenient  when  they  speak  of  the  offences  of  others; 
nor  do  I  greatly  rely  on  a  sort  of  prophecy  which  was 
delivered,  as  the  men  of  this  hill  district  say,  to  the 
young  Douglas,  by  a  man  who  in  the  course  of  nature 
should  have  been  long  since  dead,  promising  him  a 
course  of  success  against  the  English  for  having  sacri- 
ficed his  own  castle  to  prevent  their  making  it  a  garrison.* 

'We  have  time  enough  for  the  story,'  said  Sir  Aymer, 
*and  methinks  it  would  suit  a  knight  and  a  minstrel 
better  than  the  grave  converse  we  have  hitherto  held, 
which  would  have  beseemed  —  so  God  save  me !  —  the 
mouths  of  two  travelling  friars.' 

*  So  be  it,'  said  the  minstrel:  '  the  rote  or  the  viol 
easily  changes  its  time  and  varies  its  note.' 


CHAPTER  V 


A  tale  of  sorrow,  for  your  eyes  may  weep; 
A  tale  of  horror,  for  your  flesh  may  tingle; 
A  tale  of  wonder,  for  the  eyebrows  arch, 
And  the  flesh  curdles,  if  you  read  it  rightly. 


Old  Play. 


'Your  honour  must  be  informed,  gentle  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence,  that  I  have  heard  this  story  told  at  a  great  dis- 
tance from  the  land  in  which  it  happened,  by  a  sworn 
minstrel,  the  ancient  friend  and  servant  of  the  house  of 
Douglas,  one  of  the  best,  it  is  said,  who  ever  belonged  to 
that  noble  family.  This  minstrel,  Hugo  Hugonet  by 
name,  attended  his  young  master  when  on  this  fierce 
exploit,  as  was  his  wont. 

'The  castle  was  in  total  tumult;  in  one  corner  the  war- 
men  were  busy  breaking  up  and  destroying  provisions; 
in  another  they  were  slaying  men,  horses,  and  cattle, 
and  these  actions  were  accompanied  with  appropriate 
sounds.  The  cattle,  particularly,  had  become  sensible 
of  their  impending  fate,  and  with  awkward  resistance 
and  piteous  cries  testified  that  reluctance  with  which 
these  poor  creatures  look  instinctively  on  the  shambles. 
The  groans  and  screams  of  men  undergoing,  or  about  to 
undergo,  the  stroke  of  death,  and  the  screeches  of  the 
poor  horses  which  were  in  mortal  agony,  formed  a  fearful 
chorus.  Hugonet  was  desirous  to  remove  himself  from 
such  unpleasant  sights  and  sounds;  but  his  master,  the 
Douglas,  had  been  a  man  of  some  reading,  and  his  old 
servant  was  anxious  to  secure  a  book  of  poetry,  to  which 

S6 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

he  had  been  attached  of  old.  This  contained  the  lays  of 
an  ancient  Scottish  bard  who,  if  an  ordinary  human 
creature  while  he  was  in  this  life,  cannot  now  perhaps  be 
exactly  termed  such. 

*He  was,  in  short,  that  Thomas,  distinguished  by  the 
name  of  the  Rhymer,  and  whose  intimacy,  it  is  said, 
became  so  great  with  the  gifted  people  called  the  faery 
folk  that  he  could,  like  them,  foretell  the  future  deed 
before  it  came  to  pass,  and  united  in  his  own  person  the 
quality  of  bard  and  of  soothsayer.  But  of  late  years  he 
had  vanished  almost  entirely  from  this  mortal  scene; 
and  although  the  time  and  manner  of  his  death  were 
never  publicly  known,  yet  the  general  belief  was  that 
he  was  not  severed  from  the  land  of  the  living,  but  re- 
moved to  the  land  of  faery,  from  whence  he  sometimes 
made  excursions,  and  concerned  himself  only  about 
matters  which  were  to  come  hereafter.  Hugonet  was 
the  more  earnest  to  prevent  the  loss  of  the  works  of  this 
ancient  bard,  as  many  of  his  poems  and  predictions  were 
said  to  be  preserved  in  the  castle,  and  were  supposed  to 
contain  much  especially  connected  with  the  old  house  of 
Douglas,  as  well  as  other  families  of  ancient  descent,  who 
had  been  subjects  of  this  old  man's  prophecy;  and  ac- 
cordingly he  determined  to  save  this  volume  from 
destruction  in  the  general  conflagration  to  which  the 
building  was  about  to  be  consigned  by  the  heir  of  its 
ancient  proprietors.  With  this  view  he  hurried  up  into 
the  little  old  vaulted  room  called  "the  Douglas's  study," 
in  which  there  might  be  some  dozen  old  books  written 
by  the  ancient  chaplains,  in  what  the  minstrels  call  the 
letter  black.  He  immediately  discovered  the  celebrated 
lay,  called  ' '  Sir  Tristrem , ' '  which  has  been  so  often  altered 

57 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  abridged  as  to  bear  little  resemblance  to  the  original. 
Hugonet,  who  well  knew  the  value  in  which  this  poem 
was  held  by  the  ancient  lords  of  the  castle,  took  the 
parchment  volume  from  the  shelves  of  the  Hbrary,  and 
laid  it  upon  a  small  desk  adjacent  to  the  baron's  chair. 
Having  made  such  preparation  for  putting  it  in  safety, 
he  fell  into  a  brief  reverie,  in  which  the  decay  of  hght, 
and  the  preparations  for  the  Douglas  Larder,  but  espe- 
cially the  last  sight  of  objects  which  had  been  familiar  to 
his  eyes,  now  on  the  eve  of  destruction,  engaged  him  at 
that  moment. 

'The  bard,  therefore,  was  thinking  within  himself 
upon  the  uncommon  mixture  of  the  mystical  scholar  and 
warrior  in  his  old  master,  when,  as  he  bent  his  eyes  upon 
the  book  of  the  ancient  Rhymer,  he  was  astonished  to 
observe  it  slowly  removed  from  the  desk  on  which  it  lay 
by  an  invisible  hand.  The  old  man  looked  with  horror 
at  the  spontaneous  motion  of  the  book  for  the  safety  of 
which  he  was  interested,  and  had  the  courage  to  ap- 
proach a  little  nearer  the  table,  in  order  to  discover  by 
what  means  it  had  been  withdrawn. 

*I  have  said  that  the  room  was  already  becoming  dark, 
so  as  to  render  it  diflEicult  to  distinguish  any  person  in  the 
chair,  though  it  now  appeared,  on  closer  examination, 
that  a  kind  of  shadowy  outline  of  a  human  form  was 
seated  in  it,  but  neither  precise  enough  to  convey  its 
exact  figure  to  the  mind  nor  so  detailed  as  to  intimate 
distinctly  its  mode  of  action.  The  bard  of  Douglas, 
therefore,  gazed  upon  the  object  of  his  fear,  as  if  he  had 
looked  upon  something  not  mortal;  nevertheless,  as  he 
gazed  more  intently,  he  became  more  capable  of  discov- 
ering the  object  which  oft'ered  itself  to  his  eyes,  and  they 

58 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

grew  by  degrees  more  keen  to  penetrate  what  they  wit- 
nessed. A  tall  thin  form,  attired  in,  or  rather  shaded 
with,  a  long  flowing  dusky  robe,  having  a  face  and  phy- 
siognomy so  wild  and  overgrown  with  hair  as  to  be 
hardly  human,  were  the  only  marked  outlines  of  the 
phantom;  and,  looking  more  attentively,  Hugonet  was 
still  sensible  of  two  other  forms,  the  outlines,  it  seemed, 
of  a  hart  and  a  hind,  which  appeared  half  to  shelter 
themselves  behind  the  person  and  under  the  robe  of  this 
supernatural  figure.' 

*A  probable  tale,'  said  the  knight,  'for  you,  sir  min- 
strel, a  man  of  sense  as  you  seem  to  be,  to  recite  so 
gravely!  From  what  wise  authority  have  you  had  this 
tale  which,  though  it  might  pass  well  enough  amid 
clanging  beakers,  must  be  held  quite  apocryphal  in  the 
sober  hours  of  the  morning? ' 

'By  my  minstrel  word,  sir  knight,'  answered  Bertram, 
*I  am  no  propagator  of  the  fable,  if  it  be  one;  Hugonet, 
the  violer,  when  he  had  retired  into  a  cloister  near  the 
Lake  of  Pembelmere  in  Wales,  communicated  the  story 
to  me  as  I  now  tell  it.  Therefore,  as  it  was  upon  the 
authority  of  an  eyewitness,  I  apologise  not  for  relating 
it  to  you,  since  I  could  hardly  discover  a  more  direct 
source  of  knowledge.' 

'Be  it  so,  sir  minstrel,'  said  the  knight;  'tell  on  thy 
tale,  and  may  thy  legend  escape  criticism  from  others  as 
well  as  from  me.' 

'Hugonet,  sir  knight,'  answered  Bertram,  'was  a  holy 
man,  and  maintained  a  fair  character  during  his  whole 
life,  notwithstanding  his  trade  may  be  esteemed  a  light 
one.  The  vision  spoke  to  him  in  an  antique  language, 
like  that  formerly  used  in  the  kingdom  of  Strathclyde, 

59 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

being  a  species  of  Scots  or  Gaelic,  which  few  would  have 
comprehended. 

'"You  are  a  learned  man,"  said  the  apparition,  "and 
not  unacquainted  with  the  dialects  used  in  your  country 
formerly,  although  they  are  now  out  of  date,  and  you 
are  obHged  to  translate  them  into  the  vulgar  Saxon  of 
Deira  or  Northumberland;  but  highly  must  an  ancient 
British  bard  prize  one  in  this  '  remote  term  of  time '  who 
sets  upon  the  poetry  of  his  native  country  a  value  which 
invites  him  to  think  of  its  preservation  at  a  moment  of 
such  terror  as  influences  the  present  evening." 

**'It  is,  indeed,"  said  Hugonet,  "a  night  of  terror, 
that  calls  even  the  dead  from  the  grave,  and  makes 
them  the  ghastly  and  fearful  companions  of  the  living. 
Who  or  what  art  thou,  in  God's  name,  who  breakest  the 
bounds  which  divide  them,  and  revisitest  thus  strangely 
the  state  thou  hast  so  long  bid  adieu  to?" 

"'I  am,"  repHed  the  vision,  "  that  celebrated  Thomas 
the  Rhymer,  by  some  called  Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  or 
Thomas  the  True  Speaker.  Like  other  sages,  I  am  per- 
mitted at  times  to  revisit  the  scenes  of  my  former  life, 
nor  am  I  incapable  of  removing  the  shadowy  clouds 
and  darkness  which  overhang  futurity;  and  know,  thou 
afflicted  man,  that  what  thou  now  seest  in  this  woful 
country  is  not  a  general  emblem  of  what  shall  therein 
befall  hereafter ;  but  in  proportion  as  the  Douglasses  are 
now  suffering  the  loss  and  destruction  of  their  home  for 
their  loyalty  to  the  rightful  heir  of  the  Scottish  kingdom, 
so  hath  Heaven  appointed  for  them  a  just  reward;  and 
as  they  have  not  spared  to  burn  and  destroy  their  own 
house  and  that  of  their  fathers  in  the  Bruce's  cause,  so 
is  it  the  doom  of  Heaven  that,  as  often  as  the  walls  of 

60 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Douglas  Castle  shall  be  burnt  to  the  ground,  they  shall 
be  again  rebuilt  still  more  stately  and  more  magnificent 
than  before." 

*A  cry  was  now  heard  Uke  that  of  a  multitude  in  the 
courtyard,  joining  in  a  fierce  shout  of  exultation;  at  the 
same  time  a  broad  and  ruddy  glow  seemed  to  burst  from 
the  beams  and  rafters,  and  sparks  flew  from  them  as 
from  the  smith's  stithy,  while  the  element  caught  to  its 
fuel,  and  the  conflagration  broke  its  way  through  every 
aperture. 

'"See  ye  that?"  said  the  vision,  casting  his  eye  to- 
wards the  windows,  and  disappearing.  "Begone!  The 
fated  hour  of  removing  this  book  is  not  yet  come,  nor 
are  thine  the  destined  hands.  But  it  will  be  safe  where  I 
have  placed  it,  and  the  time  of  its  removal  shall  come." 
The  voice  was  heard  after  the  form  had  vanished,  and 
the  brain  of  Hugonet  almost  turned  round  at  the  wild 
scene  which  he  beheld ;  his  utmost  exertion  was  scarcely 
sufiicient  to  withdraw  him  from  the  terrible  spot;  and 
Douglas  Castle  that  night  sunk  into  ashes  and  smoke,  to 
arise,  in  no  great  length  of  time,  in  a  form  stronger  than 
ever.'  The  minstrel  stopt,  and  his  hearer,  the  Enghsh 
knight,  remained  silent  for  some  minutes  ere  at  length 
he  replied. 

*It  is  true,  minstrel,'  answered  Sir  Aymer,  'that  your 
tale  is  so  far  undeniable,  that  this  castle,  three  times 
burned  down  by  the  heir  of  the  house  and  of  the  barony, 
has  hitherto  been  as  often  reared  again  by  Henry  Lord 
Clifford  and  other  generals  of  the  English,  who  endeav- 
oured on  every  occasion  to  build  it  up  more  artificially 
and  more  strongly  than  it  had  formerly  existed,  since  it 
occupies  a  position  too  important  to  the  safety  of  our 

6i 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Scottish  border  to  permit  our  yielding  it  up.  This  I 
myself  have  partly  witnessed.  But  I  cannot  think  that, 
because  the  castle  has  been  so  destroyed,  it  is  therefore 
decreed  so  to  be  repaired  in  future,  considering  that  such 
cruelties  as  surely  cannot  meet  the  approbation  of  Heaven 
have  attended  the  feats  of  the  Douglasses.  But  I  see 
thou  art  determined  to  keep  thine  own  faith,  nor  can  I 
blame  thee,  since  the  wonderful  turns  of  fate  which 
have  attended  this  fortress  are  sufficient  to  warrant  any 
one  to  watch  for  what  seem  the  peculiar  indications  of 
the  will  of  Heaven;  but  thou  mayst  believe,  good  min- 
strel, that  the  fault  shall  not  be  mine  if  the  young 
Douglas  shall  have  opportunity  to  exercise  his  cookery 
upon  a  second  edition  of  his  family  larder,  or  to  profit 
by  the  prediction  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer.' 

*I  do  not  doubt  due  circumspection  upon  your  own 
partand  Sir  John  de  Walton's,' said  Bertram;  'but  there 
is  no  crime  in  my  saying  that  Heaven  can  accomplish  its 
own  purposes.  I  look  upon  Douglas  Castle  as  in  some 
degree  a  fated  place,  and  I  long  to  see  what  changes 
time  may  have  made  in  it  during  the  currency  of  twenty 
years.  Above  all,  I  desire  to  secure,  if  possible,  the  vol- 
ume of  this  Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  having  in  it  such  a 
fund  of  forgotten  minstrelsy,  and  of  prophecies  respect- 
ing the  future  fates  of  the  British  kingdom,  both  north- 
ern and  southern.' 

The  knight  made  no  answer,  but  rode  a  Httle  space 
forward,  keeping  the  upper  part  of  the  ridge  of  the 
water,  by  which  the  road  down  the  vale  seemed  to  be 
rather  sharply  conducted.  It  at  length  attained  the 
summit  of  an  acclivity  of  considerable  length.  From 
this  point,  and  behind  a  conspicuous  rock,  which  ap- 

62 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

peared  to  have  been  pushed  aside,  as  it  were,  like  the 
scene  of  a  theatre,  to  admit  a  view  of  the  under  part  of 
the  valley,  the  travellers  beheld  the  extensive  vale, 
parts  of  which  have  been  already  shown  in  detail,  but 
which,  as  the  river  became  narrower,  was  now  entirely 
laid  bare  in  its  height  and  depth  as  far  as  it  extended, 
and  displayed  in  its  precincts,  at  a  little  distance  from 
the  course  of  the  stream,  the  towering  and  lordly  castle 
to  which  it  gave  the  name.  The  mist,  which  continued 
to  encumber  the  valley  with  its  fleecy  clouds,  showed 
imperfectly  the  rude  fortifications  which  served  to  de- 
fend the  small  town  of  Douglas,  which  was  strong  enough 
to  repel  a  desultory  attack,  but  not  to  withstand  what 
was  called  in  those  days  a  formal  siege.  The  most  strik- 
ing feature  was  its  church,  an  ancient  Gothic  pile  raised 
on  an  eminence  in  the  centre  of  the  town,  and  even 
then  extremely  ruinous.  To  the  left,  and  lying  in  the 
distance,  might  be  seen  other  towers  and  battlements; 
and,  divided  from  the  town  by  a  piece  of  artificial  water, 
which  extended  almost  around  it,  arose  the  Dangerous 
Castle  of  Douglas. 

Sternly  was  it  fortified,  after  the  fashion  of  the  middle 
ages,  with  donjon  and  battlements;  displaying,  above 
others,  the  tall  tower,  which  bore  the  name  of  Lord 
Henry's,  or  the  Clifford's,  Tower. 

'Yonder  is  the  castle,'  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  extend- 
ing his  arm,  with  a  smile  of  triumph  upon  his  brow; 
*thou  mayst  judge  thyself  whether  the  defences  added 
to  it  under  the  Clifford  are  likely  to  render  its  next  cap- 
ture a  more  easy  deed  than  the  last.' 

The  minstrel  barely  shook  his  head,  and  quoted 
from  the  Psalmist  —  Nisi  Dominus  custodiet.  Nor  did  he 

63 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

prosecute  the  discourse,  though  De  Valence  answered 
eagerly,  '  My  own  edition  of  the  text  is  not  very  differ- 
ent from  thine;  but,  methinks,  thou  art  more  spiritually- 
minded  than  can  always  be  predicated  of  a  wandering 
minstrel.' 

'  God  knows,'  said  Bertram,  *  that  if  I,  or  such  as  I,  are 
forgetful  of  the  finger  of  Providence  in  accomplishing 
its  purposes  in  this  lower  world,  we  have  heavier  blame 
than  that  of  other  people,  since  we  are  perpetually  called 
upon,  in  the  exercise  of  our  fanciful  profession,  to  ad- 
mire the  turns  of  fate  which  bring  good  out  of  evil,  and 
which  render  those  who  think  only  of  their  own  pas- 
sions and  purposes  the  executors  of  the  will  of  Heaven.' 

'I  do  submit  to  what  you  say,  sir  minstrel,'  answered 
the  knight,  'and  it  would  be  unlawful  to  express  any 
doubt  of  the  truths  which  you  speak  so  solemnly,  any 
more  than  of  your  own  belief  in  them.  Let  me  add,  sir, 
that  I  think  I  have  power  enough  in  this  garrison  to  bid 
you  welcome,  and  Sir  John  de  Walton,  I  hope,  will  not 
refuse  access  to  hall,  castle,  or  knight's  bower  to  a 
person  of  your  profession,  and  by  whose  conversation  we 
shall  perhaps  profit  somewhat.  I  cannot,  however,  lead 
you  to  expect  such  indulgence  for  your  son,  considering 
the  present  state  of  his  health ;  but  if  I  procure  him  the 
privilege  to  remain  at  the  convent  of  St.  Bride,  he  will  be 
there  unmolested  and  in  safety,  until  you  have  renewed 
your  acquaintance  with  Douglas  Dale  and  its  history, 
and  are  disposed  to  set  forward  on  your  journey.' 

'I  embrace  your  honour's  proposal  the  more  willingly,' 
said  the  minstrel,  'that  I  can  recompense  the  father 
abbot.' 

'A  main  point  with  holy  men  or  women,'  rephed  De 

64 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Valence,  'who,  in  time  of  warfare,  subsist  by  affording 
the  visitors  of  their  shrine  the  means  of  maintenance  in 
their  cloisters  for  a  passing  season,' 

The  party  now  approached  the  sentinels  on  guard  at 
the  castle,  who  were  closely  and  thickly  stationed,  and 
who  respectfully  admitted  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  as 
next  in  command  under  Sir  John  de  Walton.  Fabian  — 
for  so  was  the  young  squire  named  who  attended  on  De 
Valence  —  mentioned  it  as  his  master's  pleasure  that 
the  minstrel  should  also  be  admitted. 

An  old  archer,  however,  looked  hard  at  the  minstrel 
as  he  followed  Sir  Aymer.  'It  is  not  for  us,'  said  he,  'or 
any  of  our  degree,  to  oppose  the  pleasure  of  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence,  nephew  to  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  in  such  a 
matter;  and  for  us.  Master  Fabian,  welcome  are  you  to 
make  the  gleeman  your  companion  both  at  bed  and 
board,  as  well  as  your  visitant,  a  week  or  two  at  the 
Castle  of  Douglas;  but  your  worship  is  well  aware  of  the 
strict  order  of  watch  laid  upon  us,  and  if  Solomon  king 
of  Israel  were  to  come  here  as  a  travelling  minstrel,  by 
my  faith  I  durst  not  give  him  entrance,  unless  I  had 
positive  authority  from  Sir  John  de  Walton.' 

'Do  you  doubt,  sirrah,'  said  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
who  returned  on  hearing  an  altercation  betwixt  Fabian 
and  the  archer  —  *  do  you  doubt  that  I  have  good 
authority  to  entertain  a  guest,  or  do  you  presume  to 
contest  it? ' 

'Heaven  forbid! '  said  the  old  man,  'that  I  should  pre- 
sume to  place  my  own  desire  in  opposition  to  your  wor- 
ship, who  has  so  lately  and  so  honourably  acquired  your 
spurs;  but  in  this  matter  I  must  think  what  will  be  the 
wish  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  is  your  governor,  sir 

46  65 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

knight,  as  well  as  mine;  and  so  far  I  hold  it  worth  while 
to  detain  your  guest  until  Sir  John  return  from  a  ride  to 
the  outposts  of  the  castle;  and  this,  I  conceive,  being  my 
duty,  will  be  no  matter  of  offence  to  your  worship.' 

'Methinks,'  said  the  knight,  'it  is  saucy  in  thee  to 
suppose  that  my  commands  can  have  anything  in  them 
improper,  or  contradictory  to  those  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton;  thou  mayst  trust  to  me  at  least  that  thou  shalt 
come  to  no  harm.  Keep  this  man  in  the  guard-room ;  let 
him  not  want  good  cheer,  and  when  Sir  John  de  Walton 
returns,  report  him  as  a  person  admitted  by  my  invita- 
tion, and  if  anything  more  be  wanted  to  make  out  your 
excuse,  I  shall  not  be  reluctant  in  stating  it  to  the  gov- 
ernor.' 

The  archer  made  a  signal  of  obedience  with  the  pike 
which  he  held  in  his  hand,  and  resumed  the  grave  and 
solemn  manner  of  a  sentinel  upon  his  post.  He  first, 
however,  ushered  in  the  minstrel,  and  furnished  him 
with  food  and  liquor,  speaking  at  the  same  time  to 
Fabian,  who  remained  behind.  The  smart  young 
stripUng  had  become  very  proud  of  late,  in  consequence 
of  obtaining  the  name  of  Sir  Aymer's  squire,  and  ad- 
vancing a  step  in  chivalry,  as  Sir  Aymer  himself  had, 
somewhat  earlier  than  the  usual  period,  been  advanced 
from  squire  to  knight. 

'I  tell  thee,  Fabian,'  said  the  old  archer,  whose  grav- 
ity, sagacity,  and  skill  in  his  vocation,  while  they  gained 
him  the  confidence  of  all  in  the  castle,  subjected  him,  as 
he  himself  said,  occasionally  to  the  ridicule  of  the  young 
coxcombs,  and  at  the  same  time,  we  may  add,  rendered 
him  somewhat  pragmatic  and  punctilious  towards  those 
who  stood  higher  than  himself  in  birth  and  rank  —  '  I 

66 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

tell  thee,  Fabian,  thou  wilt  do  thy  master.  Sir  Aymer, 
good  service  if  thou  wilt  give  him  a  hint  to  suffer  an  old 
archer,  man-at-arms,  or  such-like,  to  give  him  a  fair 
and  civil  answer  respecting  that  which  he  commands; 
for  undoubtedly  it  is  not  in  the  first  score  of  a  man's 
years  that  he  learns  the  various  proper  forms  of  military 
service;  and  Sir  John  de  Walton,  a  most  excellent  com- 
mander no  doubt,  is  one  earnestly  bent  on  pursuing  the 
strict  line  of  his  duty,  and  will  be  rigorously  severe,  as 
well,  believe  me,  with  thy  master  as  with  a  lesser  person. 
Nay,  he  also  possesses  that  zeal  for  his  duty  which  in- 
duces him  to  throw  blame,  if  there  be  the  slightest 
ground  for  it,  upon  Aymer  de  Valence  himself,  although 
his  uncle,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  was  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton's steady  patron,  and  laid  the  beginning  of  his  good 
fortune;  for  all  which,  by  training  up  his  nephew  in 
the  true  discipline  of  the  French  wars.  Sir  John  has  taken 
the  best  way  of  showing  himself  grateful  to  the  old  earl.' 
'Be  it  as  you  will,  old  Gilbert  Greenleaf,'  answered 
Fabian, '  thou  knowest  I  never  quarrel  with  thy  sermon- 
ising, and  therefore  give  me  credit  for  submitting  to 
many  a  lecture  from  Sir  John  de  Walton  and  thyself; 
but  thou  drivest  this  a  little  too  far,  if  thou  canst  not 
let  a  day  pass  without  giving  me  a  flogging.  Credit  me, 
Sir  John  de  Walton  will  not  thank  thee  if  thou  term  him 
one  too  old  to  remember  that  he  himself  had  once  some 
green  sap  in  his  veins.  Ay,  thus  it  is,  the  old  man  will 
not  forget  that  he  has  once  been  young,  nor  the  young 
that  he  must  some  day  be  old;  and  so  the  one  changes 
his  manners  into  the  lingering  formality  of  advanced 
age,  and  the  other  remains  like  a  midsummer  torrent 
swoln  with  rain,  every  drop  of  water  in  it  noise,  froth, 

67 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  overflow.  There  is  a  maxim  for  thee,  Gilbert! 
Heardest  thou  ever  better?  Hang  it  up  amidst  thy 
axioms  of  wisdom,  and  see  if  it  will  not  pass  among  them 
like  fifteen  to  the  dozen.  It  will  serve  to  bring  thee  off, 
man,  when  the  wine-pot  —  thine  only  fault,  good  Gil- 
bert —  hath  brought  thee  on  occasion  into  something 
of  a  scrape.' 

'Best  keep  it  for  thyself,  good  Sir  Squire,'  said  the 
old  man;  'methinks  it  is  more  like  to  stand  thyself  one 
day  in  good  stead.  Who  ever  heard  of  a  knight,  or  of 
the  wood  of  which  a  knight  is  made,  and  that  is  a  squire, 
being  punished  corporally  like  a  poor  old  archer  or  horse- 
boy? Your  worst  fault  will  be  mended  by  some  of  these 
witty  sayings,  and  your  best  service  will  scarce  be  re- 
warded more  thankfully  than  by  giving  thee  the  name  of 
Fabian  the  Fabler,  or  some  such  witty  title.' 

Having  unloosed  his  repartee  to  this  extent,  old 
Greenleaf  resumed  a  certain  acidity  of  countenance, 
which  may  be  said  to  characterise  those  whose  prefer- 
ment hath  become  frozen  under  the  influence  of  the  slow- 
ness of  its  progress,  and  who  display  a  general  spleen 
against  such  as  have  obtained  the  advancement  for 
which  all  are  struggling  earlier,  and,  as  they  suppose, 
with  less  merit  than  their  own.  From  time  to  time  the 
eye  of  the  old  sentinel  stole  from  the  top  of  his  pike,  and 
with  an  air  of  triumph  rested  upon  the  young  man 
Fabian,  as  if  to  see  how  deeply  the  wound  had  galled 
him,  while  at  the  same  time  he  held  himself  on  the  alert 
to  perform  whatever  mechanical  duty  his  post  might 
require.  Both  Fabian  and  his  master  were  at  the  happy 
period  of  life  when  such  discontent  as  that  of  the  grave 
archer  affected  them  lightly,  and,  at  the  very  worst,  was 

68 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

considered  as  the  jest  of  an  old  man  and  a  good  soldier; 
the  more  especially  as  he  was  always  willing  to  do  the 
duty  of  his  companions,  and  was  much  trusted  by  Sir 
John  de  Walton  who,  though  very  much  younger,  had 
been  bred  up  like  Greenleaf  in  the  wars  of  Edward  the 
First,  and  was  tenacious  in  upholding  strict  discipline 
which,  since  the  death  of  that  great  monarch,  had  been 
considerably  neglected  by  the  young  and  warm-blooded 
valour  of  England. 

Meantime  it  occurred  to  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  that 
though,  in  displaying  the  usual  degree  of  hospitality 
shown  to  such  a  man  as  Bertram,  he  had  merely  done 
what  was  becoming  his  own  rank,  as  one  possessed  of 
the  highest  honours  of  chivalry,  the  self-styled  minstrel 
might  not  in  reality  be  a  man  of  that  worth  which  he 
assumed.  There  was  certainly  something  in  his  conver- 
sation, at  least  more  grave,  if  not  more  austere,  than 
was  common  to  those  of  his  calling;  and  when  he  recol- 
lected many  points  of  Sir  John  de  Walton's  minuteness, 
a  doubt  arose  in  his  mind  that  the  governor  might  not 
approve  of  his  having  introduced  into  the  castle  a  per- 
son of  Bertram's  character,  who  was  capable  of  making 
observations  from  which  the  garrison  might  afterwards 
feel  much  danger  and  inconvenience.  Secretly,  therefore, 
he  regretted  that  he  had  not  fairly  intimated  to  the 
wandering  minstrel  that  his  reception,  or  that  of  any 
stranger,  within  the  Dangerous  Castle  was  not  at  present 
permitted  by  the  circumstances  of  the  times.  In  this  case, 
the  express  line  of  his  duty  would  have  been  his  vindica- 
tion, and  instead,  perhaps,  of  discountenance  and  blame, 
he  would  have  had  praise  and  honour  from  his  superior. 

With  these  thoughts  passing  through  his  mind,  some 

69 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tacit  apprehension  arose  of  a  rebuke  on  the  part  of  his 
commanding-ofiEicer,  for  this  officer,  notwithstanding  his 
strictness,  Sir  Aymer  loved  as  well  as  feared.  He  went, 
therefore,  towards  the  guardroom  of  the  castle,  under 
the  pretence  of  seeing  that  the  rites  of  hospitality  had 
been  duly  observed  towards  his  late  travelling  compan- 
ion. The  minstrel  arose  respectfully,  and  from  the 
manner  in  which  he  paid  his  compliments  seemed,  if  he 
had  not  expected  this  call  of  inquiry,  at  least  to  be  in  no 
degree  surprised  at  it.  Sir  Aymer,  on  the  other  hand, 
assumed  an  air  something  more  distant  than  he  had  yet 
used  towards  Bertram,  and  in  reverting  to  his  former 
invitation,  he  now  so  far  qualified  it  as  to  say,  that  the 
minstrel  knew  that  he  was  only  second  in  command, 
and  that  effectual  permission  to  enter  the  castle  ought  to 
be  sanctioned  by  Sir  John  de  Walton. 

There  is  a  civil  way  of  seeming  to  believe  any  apology 
which  people  are  disposed  to  receive  in  payment,  with- 
out alleging  suspicion  of  its  currency.  The  minstrel, 
therefore,  tendered  his  thanks  for  the  civility  which  had 
so  far  been  shown  to  him.  'It  was  a  mere  wish  of  passing 
curiosity,'  he  said,  'which,  if  not  granted,  could  be 
attended  with  no  consequences  either  inconvenient  or 
disagreeable  to  him.  Thomas  of  Ercildoun  was,  accord- 
ing to  the  Welsh  triads,  one  of  the  three  bards  of  Britain 
who  never  stained  a  spear  with  blood,  or  was  guilty 
either  of  taking  or  retaking  castles  and  fortresses,  and 
thus  far  not  a  person  likely,  after  death,  to  be  suspected 
of  such  warlike  feats.  But  I  can  easily  conceive  why  Sir 
John  de  Walton  should  have  allowed  the  usual  rites  of 
hospitality  to  fall  into  disuse,  and  why  a  man  of  public 
character  like  myself  ought  not  to  desire  food  or  lodging 

70 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

where  it  is  accounted  so  dangerous;  and  it  can  surprise 
no  one  why  the  governor  did  not  even  invest  his  worthy 
young  lieutenant  with  the  power  of  dispensing  with  so 
strict  and  unusual  a  rule.' 

These  words,  very  coolly  spoken,  had  something  of 
the  effect  of  affronting  the  young  knight,  as  insinuating 
that  he  was  not  held  sufficiently  trustworthy  by  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  with  whom  he  had  lived  on  terms  of 
affection  and  familiarity,  though  the  governor  had 
attained  his  thirtieth  year  and  upwards,  and  his  lieu- 
tenant did  not  yet  write  himself  one-and-twenty,  the 
fuU  age  of  chivalry  having  been  in  his  case  particularly 
dispensed  with,  owing  to  a  feat  of  early  manhood.  Ere 
he  had  fully  composed  the  angry  thoughts  which  were 
chafing  in  his  mind,  the  sound  of  a  hunting-bugle  was 
heard  at  the  gate,  and  from  the  sort  of  general  stir  which 
it  spread  through  the  garrison,  it  was  plain  that  the 
governor  had  returned  from  his  ride.  Every  sentinel, 
seemingly  animated  by  his  presence,  shouldered  his  pike 
more  uprightly,  gave  the  word  of  the  post  more  sharply, 
and  seemed  more  fully  awake  and  conscious  of  his  duty. 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  having  aHghted  from  his  horse, 
asked  Greenleaf  what  had  passed  during  his  absence; 
the  old  archer '  thought  it  his  duty  to  say  that  a  minstrel, 
who  seemed  like  a  Scotchman,  or  wandering  Borderer, 
had  been  admitted  into  the  castle,  while  his  son,  a  lad 
sick  of  the  pestilence  so  much  talked  of,  had  been  left 
for  a  time  at  the  abbey  of  St.  Bride.'  This  he  said  on 
Fabian's  information.  The  archer  added,  that  'the 
father  was  a  man  of  tale  and  song,  who  could  keep  the 
whole  garrison  amused,  without  giving  them  leave  to 
attend  to  their  own  business.' 

71 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

*  We  want  no  such  devices  to  pass  the  time,'  answered 
the  governor;  'and  we  would  have  been  better  satisfied 
if  our  lieutenant  had  been  pleased  to  find  us  other  guests, 
and  fitter  for  a  direct  and  frank  communication,  than 
one  who,  by  his  profession*  is  a  detractor  of  God  and  a 
deceiver  of  man.' 

*Yet,'  said  the  old  soldier,  who  could  hardly  Hsten 
even  to  his  commander  without  indulging  the  humour  of 
contradiction,  *  I  have  heard  your  honour  intimate  that 
the  trade  of  a  minstrel,  when  it  is  justly  acted  up  to,  is 
as  worthy  as  even  the  degree  of  knighthood  itself.' 

'  Such  it  may  have  been  in  former  days,'  answered  the 
knight;  'but  in  modern  minstrelsy  the  duty  of  rendering 
the  art  an  incentive  to  virtue  is  forgotten,  and  it  is  well 
if  the  poetry  which  fired  our  fathers  to  noble  deeds  does 
not  now  push  on  their  children  to  such  as  are  base  and 
unworthy.  But  I  will  speak  upon  this  to  my  friend 
Aymer,  than  whom  I  do  not  know  a  more  excellent  or  a 
more  high-spirited  young  man.' 

While  discoursing  with  the  archer  in  this  manner,  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  of  a  tall  and  handsome  figure,  advanced 
and  stood  within  the  ample  arch  of  the  guard-room 
chimney,  and  was  listened  to  in  reverential  silence  by 
trusty  Gilbert,  who  filled  up  with  nods  and  signs,  as  an 
attentive  auditor,  the  pauses  in  the  conversation. 

The  conduct  of  another  hearer  of  what  passed  was  not 
equally  respectful,  but,  from  his  position,  he  escaped 
observation.  This  third  person  was  no  other  than  the 
squire  Fabian,  who  was  concealed  from  observation  by 
his  position  behind  the  hob,  or  projecting  portion  of  the 
old-fashioned  fireplace,  and  hid  himself  yet  more  care- 
fully when  he  heard  the  conversation  between  the  gover- 

72 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

nor  and  the  archer  turn  to  the  prejudice,  as  he  thought, 
of  his  master.  The  squire's  employment  at  this  time 
was  the  servile  task  of  cleaning  Sir  Aymer's  arms,  which 
was  conveniently  performed  by  heating,  upon  the  pro- 
jection already  specified,  the  pieces  of  steel  armour  for 
the  usual  thin  coating  of  varnish.  He  could  not,  there- 
fore, if  he  should  be  discovered,  be  considered  as  guilty 
of  anything  insolent  or  disrespectful.  He  was  better 
screened  from  view,  as  a  thick  smoke  arose  from  a  quan- 
tity of  oak  panelling,  carved  in  many  cases  with  the 
crest  and  achievements  of  the  Douglas  family,  which, 
being  the  fuel  nearest  at  hand,  lay  smouldering  in  the 
chimney,  and  gathering  to  a  blaze. 

The  governor,  unconscious  of  this  addition  to  his 
audience,  pursued  his  conversation  with  Gilbert  Green- 
leaf.  '  I  need  not  tell  you,'  he  said, '  that  I  am  interested 
in  the  speedy  termination  of  this  siege  or  blockade  with 
which  Douglas  continues  to  threaten  us;  my  own  honour 
and  affections  are  engaged  in  keeping  this  Dangerous 
Castle  safe  in  England's  behalf,  but  I  am  troubled  at  the 
admission  of  this  stranger;  and  young  De  Valence  would 
have  acted  more  strictly  in  the  line  of  his  duty  if  he  had 
refused  to  this  wanderer  any  communication  with  this 
garrison  without  my  permission.' 

'Pity  it  is,'  replied  old  Greenleaf,  shaking  his  head, 
'that  this  good-natured  and  gallant  young  knight  is 
somewhat  drawn  aside  by  the  rash  advices  of  his  squire, 
the  boy  Fabian,  who  has  bravery,  but  as  little  steadiness 
in  him  as  a  bottle  of  fermented  small  beer.' 

'Now  hang  thee,'  thought  Fabian  to  himself,  'for  an 
old  relic  of  the  wars,  stuffed  full  of  conceit  and  warlike 
terms,  like  the  soldier  who,  to  keep  himself  from  the 

73 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

cold,  has  lapped  himself  so  close  in  a  tattered  ensign 
for  a  shelter,  that  his  very  outside  may  show  nothing 
but  rags  and  blazonry.' 

*  I  would  not  think  twice  of  the  matter,  were  the  party 
less  dear  to  me,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton.  'But  I  would 
fain  be  of  use  to  this  young  man,  even  although  I  should 
purchase  his  improvement  in  military  knowledge  at  the 
expense  of  giving  him  a  little  pain.  Experience  should, 
as  it  were,  be  burnt  in  upon  the  mind  of  a  young  man, 
and  not  merely  impressed  by  marking  the  lines  of  his 
chart  out  for  him  with  chalk;  I  will  remember  the  hint 
you,  Greenleaf ,  have  given,  and  take  an  opportunity  of 
severing  these  two  young  men;  and  though  I  most  dearly 
love  the  one,  and  am  far  from  wishing  ill  to  the  other,  yet 
at  present,  as  you  well  hint,  the  blind  is  leading  the  bUnd, 
and  the  young  knight  has  for  his  assistant  and  coun- 
sellor too  young  a  squire,  and  that  must  be  amended.' 

'Marry,  out  upon  thee,  old  palmer- worm ! '  said  the 
page  within  himself;  'have  I  found  thee  in  the  very  fact 
of  maligning  myself  and  my  master,  as  it  is  thy  nature 
to  do  towards  all  the  hopeful  young  buds  of  chivalry? 
If  it  were  not  to  dirty  the  arms  of  an  eleve  of  chivalry,  by 
measuring  them  with  one  of  thy  rank,  I  might  honour 
thee  with  a  knightly  invitation  to  the  field,  while  the 
scandal  which  thou  hast  spoken  is  still  foul  upon  thy 
tongue ;  as  it  is,  thou  shalt  not  carry  one  kind  of  language 
publicly  in  the  castle,  and  another  before  the  governor, 
upon  the  footing  of  having  served  with  him  under  the 
banner  of  Long-shanks.  I  will  carry  to  my  master  this 
talc  of  thine  evil  intentions;  and  when  we  have  con- 
certed together,  it  shall  appear  whether  the  youthful 
spirits  of  the  garrison  or  the  grey  beards  are  most  likely 

74 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

to  be  the  hope  and  protection  of  this  same  Castle  of 
Douglas.' 

It  is  enough  to  say  that  Fabian  pursued  his  purpose, 
in  carrying  to  his  master,  and  in  no  very  good  humour, 
the  report  of  what  had  passed  between  Sir  John  de 
Walton  and  the  old  soldier.  He  succeeded  in  represent- 
ing the  whole  as  a  formal  offence  intended  to  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence;  while  all  that  the  governor  did  to  remove 
the  suspicions  entertained  by  the  young  knight  could  not 
in  any  respect  bring  him  to  take  a  kindly  view  of  the 
feelings  of  his  commander  towards  him.  He  retained  the 
impression  which  he  had  formed  from  Fabian's  recital 
of  what  he  had  heard,  and  did  not  think  he  was  doing 
Sir  John  de  Walton  any  injustice  in  supposing  him 
desirous  to  engross  the  greatest  share  of  the  fame 
acquired  in  the  defence  of  the  castle,  and  thrusting 
back  his  companions  who  might  reasonably  pretend 
to  a  fair  portion  of  it. 

The  mother  of  mischief,  says  a  Scottish  proverb,  is  no 
bigger  than  a  midge's  wing.^  In  this  matter  of  quarrel 
neither  the  young  man  nor  the  older  knight  had  afforded 
each  other  any  just  cause  of  offence.  De  Walton  was  a 
strict  observer  of  military  discipline,  in  which  he  had 
been  educated  from  his  extreme  youth,  and  by  which 
he  was  almost  as  completely  ruled  as  by  his  natural 
disposition ;  and  his  present  situation  added  force  to  his 
original  education. 

Common  report  had  even  exaggerated  the  military 
skill,  the  love  of  adventure,  and  the  great  variety  of 
enterprise  ascribed  to  James,  the  young  Lord  of  Douglas. 
He  had,  in  the  eyes  of  this  Southern  garrison,  the  facul- 

*  7.  e.  Gnat's  wing. 

75 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ties  of  a  fiend,  rather  than  those  of  a  mere  mortal;  for 
if  the  English  soldiers  cursed  the  tedium  of  the  perpetual 
watch  and  ward  upon  the  Dangerous  Castle,  which 
admitted  of  no  relaxation  from  the  severity  of  extreme 
duty,  they  agreed  that  a  tall  form  was  sure  to  appear 
to  them  with  a  battle-axe  in  his  hand,  and,  entering  into 
conversation  in  the  most  insinuating  manner,  never 
failed,  with  an  ingenuity  and  eloquence  equal  to  that 
of  a  fallen  spirit,  to  recommend  to  the  discontented 
sentinel  some  mode  in  which,  by  giving  his  assistance  to 
betray  the  English,  he  might  set  himself  at  liberty.  The 
variety  of  these  devices,  and  the  frequency  of  their 
recurrence,  kept  Sir  John  de  Walton's  anxiety  so  per- 
petually upon  the  stretch,  that  he  at  no  time  thought 
himself  exactly  out  of  the  Black  Douglas's  reach  any 
more  than  the  good  Christian  supposes  himself  out  of 
reach  of  the  wiles  of  the  Devil;  while  every  new  tempta- 
tion, instead  of  confirming  his  hope,  seems  to  announce 
that  the  immediate  retreat  of  the  Evil  One  will  be  fol- 
lowed by  some  new  attack  yet  more  cunningly  devised. 
Under  this  general  state  of  anxiety  and  apprehension, 
the  temper  of  the  governor  changed  somewhat  for  the 
worse,  and  they  who  loved  him  best  regretted  most  that 
he  became  addicted  to  complain  of  the  want  of  diligence 
on  the  part  of  those  who,  neither  invested  with  re- 
sponsibility like  his  nor  animated  by  the  hope  of  such 
splendid  rewards,  did  not  entertain  the  same  degree  of 
watchful  and  incessant  suspicion  as  himself.  The  soldiers 
muttered  that  the  vigilance  of  their  governor  was  marked 
with  severity;  the  ofiicers  and  men  of  rank,  of  whom 
there  were  several,  as  the  castle  was  a  renowned  school 
of  arms,  and  there  was  a  certain  merit  attained  even  by 

76 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

serving  within  its  walls,  complained,  at  the  same  time, 
that  Sir  John  de  Walton  no  longer  made  parties  for 
hunting,  for  hawking,  or  for  any  purpose  which  might 
soften  the  rigours  of  warfare,  and  suffered  nothing  to  go 
forward  but  the  precise  discipline  of  the  castle.  On  the 
other  hand,  it  may  be  usually  granted  that  the  castle  is 
well  kept  where  the  governor  is  a  disciplinarian;  and 
where  feuds  and  personal  quarrels  are  found  in  the 
garrison,  the  young  men  are  usually  more  in  fault  than 
those  whose  greater  experience  has  convinced  them  of 
the  necessity  of  using  the  strictest  precautions. 

A  generous  mind  —  and  such  was  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton's —  is  often  in  this  way  changed  and  corrupted  by 
the  habit  of  over-vigilance,  and  pushed  beyond  its 
natural  limits  of  candour.  Neither  was  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence  free  from  a  similar  change:  suspicion,  though 
from  a  different  cause,  seemed  also  to  threaten  to  bias 
his  open  and  noble  disposition,  in  those  quaHties  which 
had  hitherto  been  proper  to  him.  It  was  in  vain  that 
Sir  John  de  Walton  studiously  sought  opportunities  to 
give  his  younger  friend  indulgences,  which  at  times  were 
as  far  extended  as  the  duty  of  the  garrison  permitted. 
The  blow  was  struck:  the  alarm  had  been  given  to  a 
proud  and  fiery  temper  on  both  sides;  and  while  De 
Valence  entertained  an  opinion  that  he  was  unjustly 
suspected  by  a  friend  who  was  in  several  respects  bound 
to  him,  De  Walton,  on  the  other  hand,  was  led  to  con- 
ceive that  a  young  man  of  whom  he  took  a  charge  as 
affectionate  as  if  he  had  been  a  son  of  his  own,  and  who 
owed  to  his  lessons  what  he  knew  of  warfare,  and  what 
success  he  had  obtained  in  life,  had  taken  offence  at 
trifles,  and  considered  himself  ill  treated  on  very  inade- 

77 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

quate  grounds.  The  seeds  of  disagreement  thus  sown 
between  them  failed  not,  like  the  tares  sown  by  the 
Enemy  among  the  wheat,  to  pass  from  one  class  of  the 
garrison  to  another;  the  soldiers,  though  without  any 
better  reason  than  merely  to  pass  the  time,  took  differ- 
ent sides  between  their  governor  and  his  young  lieuten- 
ant; and  so  the  ball  of  contention,  being  once  thrown  up 
between  them,  never  lacked  some  arm  or  other  to  keep 
it  in  motion. 


CHAPTER  VI 

Alas!  they  had  been  friends  in  youth; 
But  whispering  tongues  can  poison  truth; 
And  constancy  lives  in  realms  above, 

And  life  is  thorny,  and  youth  is  vain. 
And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love 

Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain. 

Each  spake  words  of  high  disdain 

And  insult  to  his  heart's  best  brother, .  .  . 

But  never  either  found  another 

To  free  the  hollow  heart  from  paining; 

They  stood  aloof,  the  scars  remaining, 

Like  cliffs  which  had  been  rent  asunder. 
A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between. 

But  neither  heat,  nor  frost,  nor  thunder. 
Shall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween, 
The  marks  of  that  which  once  hath  been. 

Coleridge,  Christabel. 

In  prosecution  of  the  intention  which,  when  his  blood 
was  cool,  seemed  to  him  wisest,  Sir  John  de  Walton 
resolved  that  he  would  go  to  the  verge  of  indulgence  with 
his  lieutenant  and  his  young  officers,  furnish  them  with 
every  species  of  amusement  which  the  place  rendered 
possible,  and  make  them  ashamed  of  their  discontent 
by  overloading  them  with  courtesy.  The  first  time,  there- 
fore, that  he  saw  Ajrmer  de  Valence  after  his  return  to 
the  castle,  he  addressed  him  in  high  spirits,  whether 
real  or  assumed. 

'What  thinkest  thou,  my  young  friend,'  said  De 
Walton,  'if  we  try  some  of  the  woodland  sports  proper, 
they  say,  to  this  country?  There  are  still  in  our  neigh- 
bourhood some  herds  of  the  Caledonian  breed  of  wild 
cattle,  which  are  nowhere  to  be  found  except  among  the 
moorlands,  the  black  and  nigged  frontier  of  what  was 

70 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

anciently  called  the  kingdom  of  Strathclyde.  There  are 
some  hunters,  too,  who  have  been  accustomed  to  the 
sport,  and  who  vouch  that  these  animals  are  by  far  the 
most  bold  and  fierce  subjects  of  chase  in  the  island  of 
Britain.' 

*  You  will  do  as  you  please,'  replied  Sir  Aymer,  coldly; 
'but  it  is  not  I,  Sir  John,  who  would  recommend,  for  the 
sake  of  a  hunting-match,  that  you  should  involve  the 
whole  garrison  in  danger;  you  know  best  the  responsi- 
bilities incurred  by  your  office  here,  and  no  doubt  must 
have  heedfully  attended  to  them  before  making  a  pro- 
posal of  such  a  nature.' 

*I  do  indeed  know  my  own  duty,'  replied  De  Walton, 
offended  in  turn,  'and  might  be  allowed  to  think  of  yours 
also,  without  assuming  more  than  my  own  share  of 
responsibility;  but  it  seems  to  me  as  if  the  commander 
of  this  Dangerous  Castle,  among  other  inabilities, 
were,  as  old  people  in  this  country  say,  subjected  to  a 
spell,  and  one  which  renders  it  impossible  for  him  to 
guide  his  conduct  so  as  to  afford  pleasure  to  those  whom 
he  is  most  desirous  to  oblige.  Not  a  great  many  weeks 
since,  whose  eyes  would  have  sparkled  like  those  of  Sir 
Aymer  de  Valence  at  the  proposal  of  a  general  hunting- 
match  after  a  new  object  of  game;  and  now  what  is  his 
bearing  when  such  sport  is  proposed  —  merely,  I  think, 
to  disappoint  my  purpose  of  obliging  him?  A  cold  acqui- 
escence drops  half -frozen  from  his  Ups,  and  he  proposes 
to  go  to  rouse  the  wild  cattle  with  an  air  of  gravity,  as  if 
he  were  undertaking  a  pilgrimage  to  the  tomb  of  a 
martyr.' 

'Not  so,  Sir  John,'  answered  the  young  knight.  'In 
our   present   situation   we   stand   conjoined   in   more 

80 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

charges  than  one,  and  although  the  greater  and  control- 
ling trust  is  no  doubt  laid  upon  you  as  the  elder  and  abler 
knight,  yet  still  I  feel  that  I  myself  have  my  own  share 
of  a  serious  responsibility.  I  trust,  therefore,  you  will 
indulgently  hear  my  opinion,  and  bear  with  it,  even 
though  it  should  appear  to  have  relation  to  that  part 
of  our  common  charge  which  is  more  especially  entrusted 
to  your  keeping.  The  dignity  of  knighthood  which  I 
have  the  honour  to  share  with  you,  the  accolade  laid  on 
my  shoulder  by  the  royal  Plantagenet,  entitles  me,  me- 
thinks,  to  so  much  grace.' 

*I  cry  you  mercy,'  said  the  elder  cavalier;  'I  forgot 
how  important  a  person  I  had  before  me,  dubbed  by  King 
Edward  himself,  who  was  moved  no  doubt  by  special 
reasons  to  confer  such  an  early  honour;  and  I  certainly 
feel  that  I  overstep  my  duty  when  I  propose  anything 
that  savours  like  idle  sport  to  a  person  of  such  grave 
pretensions.' 

'Sir  John  de  Walton,'  retorted  De  Valence,  'we  have 
had  something  too  much  of  this  —  let  it  stop  here.  All 
that  I  mean  to  say  is  that,  in  this  wardship  of  Douglas 
Castle,  it  will  not  be  by  my  consent  if  any  amusement 
which  distinctly  infers  a  relaxation  of  discipline  be  un- 
necessarily engaged  in,  and  especially  such  as  compels 
us  to  summon  to  our  assistance  a  number  of  the  Scots, 
whose  evil  disposition  towards  us  we  well  know;  nor 
will  I,  though  my  years  have  rendered  me  liable  to  such 
suspicion,  suffer  anything  of  this  kind  to  be  imputed  to 
me;  and  if  unfortunately  —  though  I  am  sure  I  know 
not  why  —  we  are  in  future  to  lay  aside  those  bonds  of 
familiar  friendship  which  formerly  linked  us  to  each 
other,  yet  I  see  no  reason  why  we  should  not  bear  our- 

45  8i 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

selves  in  our  necessary  communications  like  knights  and 
gentlemen,  and  put  the  best  construction  on  each  other's 
motives,  since  there  can  be  no  reason  for  imputing  the 
worst  to  anything  that  comes  from  either  of  us.' 

'You  may  be  right,  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,'  said  the 
governor,  bending  stiffly;  'and  since  you  say  we  are  no 
longer  bound  to  each  other  as  friends,  you  may  be 
certain,  nevertheless,  that  I  will  never  permit  a  hostile 
feehng  of  which  you  are  the  object  to  occupy  my  bosom. 
You  have  been  long,  and  I  hope  not  uselessly,  my  pupil 
in  the  duties  of  chivalry.  You  are  the  near  relation  of 
the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  my  kind  and  constant  patron, 
and  if  these  circumstances  are  well  weighed,  they  form 
a  connexion  which  it  would  be  difficult,  at  least  for  me, 
to  break  through.  If  you  feel  yourself,  as  you  seem  to 
intimate,  less  strictly  tied  by  former  obligations,  you 
must  take  your  own  choice  in  fixing  our  relations  towards 
each  other.' 

I  '  I  can  only  say,'  replied  De  Valence, '  that  my  conduct 
will  naturally  be  regulated  by  your  own;  and  you,  Sir 
John,  carmot  hope  more  devoutly  than  I  do  that  our 
military  duties  may  be  fairly  discharged  without  inter- 
fering with  our  friendly  intercourse.' 

The  knights  here  parted,  after  a  conference  which 
once  or  twice  had  very  nearly  terminated  in  a  full  and 
cordial  explanation;  but  still  there  was  wanting  one 
kind  heartfelt  word  from  either  to  break,  as  it  were,  the 
ice  which  was  fast  freezing  upon  their  intercourse,  and 
neither  chose  to  be  the  first  in  making  the  necessary 
advances  with  sufficient  cordiality,  though  each  would 
have  gladly  done  so  had  the  other  appeared  desirous  of . 
meeting  it  with  the  same  ardour;  but  their  pride  was  too 

82 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

high,  and  prevented  either  from  saying  what  might  at 
once  have  put  them  upon  an  open  and  manly  footing. 
They  parted,  therefore,  without  again  returning  to  the 
subject  of  the  proposed  diversion;  until  it  was  after- 
wards resumed  in  a  formal  note,  praying  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence  to  accompany  the  commandant  of  Douglas 
Castle  upon  a  solemn  hunting-match,  which  had  for  its 
object  the  wild  cattle  of  the  neighbouring  dale. 

The  time  of  meeting  was  appointed  at  six  in  the  morn- 
ing, beyond  the  gate  of  the  outer  barricade;  and  the 
chase  was  declared  to  be  ended  in  the  afternoon,  when 
the  recheat  should  be  blown  beneath  the  great  oak, 
known  by  the  name  of  Sholto's  Club,  which  stood  a 
remarkable  object  where  Douglas  Dale  was  bounded  by 
several  scattered  trees,  the  outskirts  of  the  forest  and 
hill  country.  The  usual  warning  was  sent  out  to  the  com- 
mon people,  or  vassals  of  the  district,  which  they,  not- 
withstanding their  feeling  of  antipathy,  received  in 
general  with  delight,  upon  the  great  epicurean  principle 
of  carpe  diem —  that  is  to  say,  in  whatever  circumstances 
it  happens  to  present  itself,  be  sure  you  lose  no  recreation 
which  life  affords.  A  hunting-match  has  still  its  attrac- 
tions, even  though  an  English  knight  take  his  pleasure 
in  the  woods  of  the  Douglas. 

It  was  no  doubt  afflicting  to  these  faithful  vassals  to 
acknowledge  another  lord  than  the  redoubted  Douglas, 
and  to  wait  by  wood  and  river  at  the  command  of  Eng- 
lish officers,  and  in  the  company  of  their  archers,  whom 
they  accounted  their  natural  enemies.  Still  it  was  the 
only  species  of  amusement  which  had  been  permitted 
them  for  a  long  time,  and  they  were  not  disposed  to  omit 
the  rare  opportunity  of  joining  in  it.   The  chase  of  the 

83 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

wolf,  the  wild  boar,  or  even  the  timid  stag,  required 
silvan  arms;  the  wild  cattle  still  more  demanded  this 
equipment  of  war-bows  and  shafts,  boar-spears  and 
sharp  swords,  and  other  tools  of  the  chase  similar  to 
those  used  in  actual  war.  Considering  this,  the  Scottish 
inhabitants  were  seldom  allowed  to  join  in  the  chase, 
except  under  regulations  as  to  number  and  arms,  and 
especially  in  preserving  a  balance  of  force  on  the  side 
of  the  EngUsh  soldiers,  which  was  very  offensive  to 
them.  The  greater  part  of  the  garrison  was  upon  such 
occasions  kept  on  foot,  and  several  detachments,  formed 
according  to  the  governor's  direction,  were  stationed  in 
different  positions,  in  case  any  quarrel  should  suddenly 
break  out. 


CHAPTER  VII 


The  drivers  thorough  the  wood  went. 

For  to  raise  the  deer; 
Bowmen  bickered  upon  the  bent, 

With  their  broad  arrows  clear. 

The  wylde  thorough  the  woods  went, 

On  every  side  shear; 
Grehounds  thorough  the  groves  glent. 

For  to  kill  thir  deer. 

Ballad  of  Chevy  Chase,  Old  Edit. 


The  appointed  morning  came  in  cold  and  raw,  after  the 
manner  of  the  Scottish  March  weather.  Dogs  yelped, 
yawned,  and  shivered,  and  the  huntsmen,  though  hardy 
and  cheerful  in  expectation  of  the  day's  sport,  twitched 
their  mauds,  or  Lowland  plaids,  close  to  their  throats, 
and  looked  with  some  dismay  at  the  mists  which  floated 
about  the  horizon,  now  threatening  to  sink  down  on  the 
peaks  and  ridges  of  prominent  mountains,  and  now  to 
shift  their  position  under  the  influence  of  some  of  the 
uncertain  gales  which  rose  and  fell  alternately  as  they 
swept  along  the  valley. 

Nevertheless,  the  appearance  of  the  whole  formed,  as 
is  usual  in  almost  all  departments  of  the  chase,  a  gay 
and  a  jovial  spectacle.  A  brief  truce  seemed  to  have 
taken  place  between  the  nations,  and  the  Scottish  people 
appeared  for  the  time  rather  as  exhibiting  the  sports  of 
their  mountains  in  a  friendly  manner  to  the  accomplished 
knights  and  bonny  archers  of  Old  England,  than  as  per- 
forming a  feudal  service,  neither  easy  nor  dignified  in 
itself,  at  the  instigation  of  usurping  neighbours.  The 
figures  of  the  cavaliers,  now  half  seen,  now  exhibited 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

fully,  and  at  the  height  of  strenuous  exertion,  according 
to  the  character  of  the  dangerous  and  broken  ground, 
particularly  attracted  the  attention  of  the  pedestrians 
who,  leading  the  dogs  or  beating  the  thickets,  dislodged 
such  objects  of  chase  as  they  found  in  the  dingles,  and 
kept  their  eyes  fixed  upon  their  companions,  rendered 
more  remarkable  from  being  mounted,  and  the  speed 
at  which  they  urged  their  horses;  the  disregard  of  all 
accidents  being  as  perfect  as  Melton  Mowbray  itself, 
or  any  other  noted  field  of  hunters  of  the  present  day, 
can  exhibit. 

The  principles  on  which  modern  and  ancient  hunting 
were  conducted  are,  however,  as  different  as  possible. 
A  fox,  or  even  a  hare,  is  in  our  own  day  considered  as  a 
sufiicient  apology  for  a  day's  exercise  to  forty  or  fifty 
dogs,  and  nearly  as  many  men  and  horses;  but  the 
ancient  chase,  even  though  not  terminating,  as  it  often 
did,  in  battle,  carried  with  it  objects  more  important, 
and  an  interest  immeasurably  more  stirring.  If,  indeed, 
one  species  of  exercise  can  be  pointed  out  as  more  uni- 
versally exhilarating  and  engrossing  than  others,  it  is 
certainly  that  of  the  chase.  The  poor  overlaboured 
drudge,  who  has  served  out  his  day  of  life,  and  wearied 
all  his  energies,  in  the  service  of  his  fellow-mortals,  he 
who  has  been  for  many  years  the  slave  of  agriculture,  or, 
still  worse,  of  manufactures,  engaged  in  raising  a  single 
peck  of  corn  from  year  to  year,  or  in  the  monotonous 
labours  of  the  desk,  can  hardly  remain  dead  to  the  gen- 
eral happiness  when  the  chase  sweeps  past  him  with 
hound  and  horn,  and  for  a  moment  feels  all  the  exulta- 
tion of  the  proudest  cavalier  who  partakes  the  amuse- 
ment.  Let  any  one  who  has  witnessed  the  sight  recall 

86 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

to  his  imagination  the  vigour  and  lively  interest  which 
he  has  seen  inspired  into  a  village,  including  the  oldest 
and  feeblest  of  its  inhabitants.  In  the  words  of  Words- 
worth, it  is,  on  such  occasions  — 

Up,  Timothy,  up  with  your  staff  and  away, 
Not  a  soul  will  remain  in  the  village  to-day; 
The  hare  has  just  started  from  Hamilton's  grounds, 
And  Skiddaw  is  glad  with  the  cry  of  the  hounds. 

But  compare  these  inspiring  sounds  to  the  burst  of  a 
whole  feudal  population  enjoying  the  sport,  whose  lives, 
instead  of  being  spent  in  the  monotonous  toil  of  modern 
avocations,  have  been  agitated  by  the  hazards  of  war 
and  of  the  chase,  its  near  resemblance,  and  you  must 
necessarily  suppose  that  the  excitation  is  extended  like  a 
fire  which  catches  to  dry  heath.  To  use  the  common 
expression,  borrowed  from  another  amusement,  all  is 
fish  that  comes  in  the  net  on  such  occasions.  An  ancient 
hunting-match,  the  nature  of  the  carnage  excepted,  was 
almost  equal  to  a  modern  battle,  when  the  strife  took 
place  on  the  surface  of  a  varied  and  unequal  country. 
A  whole  district  poured  forth  its  inhabitants,  who  formed 
a  ring  of  great  extent,  called  technically  a  tinchel,  and, 
advancing  and  narrowing  their  circle  by  degrees,  drove 
before  them  the  alarmed  animals  of  every  kind,  all  and 
each  of  which,  as  they  burst  from  the  thicket,  or  the 
moorland,  were  objects  of  the  bow,  the  javelin,  or  what- 
ever missile  weapons  the  hunters  possessed ;  while  others 
were  run  down  and  worried  by  large  greyhounds,  or 
more  frequently  brought  to  bay,  when  the  more  import- 
ant persons  present  claimed  for  themselves  the  pleasure 
of  putting  them  to  death  with  their  chivalrous  hands, 
incurring  individually  such  danger  as  is  inferred  from  a 

87 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

mortal  contest  even  with  the  timid  buck,  when  he  is 
brought  to  the  death-struggle,  and  has  no  choice  but 
yielding  his  Ufe  or  putting  himself  upon  the  defensive, 
by  the  aid  of  his  splendid  antlers,  and  with  all  the  cour- 
age of  despair. 

The  quantity  of  game  found  in  Douglas  Dale  on  this 
occasion  was  very  considerable,  for,  as  already  noticed, 
it  was  a  long  time  since  a  hunting  upon  a  great  scale 
had  been  attempted  under  the  Douglasses  themselves, 
whose  misfortunes  had  commenced,  several  years  before, 
with  those  of  their  country.  The  EngUsh  garrison,  too, 
had  not  sooner  judged  themselves  strong  or  numerous 
enough  to  exercise  these  valued  feudal  privileges.  In 
the  meantime  the  game  increased  considerably.  The 
deer,  the  wild  cattle,  and  the  wild  boars  lay  near  the 
foot  of  the  mountains,  and  made  frequent  irruptions 
into  the  lower  part  of  the  valley,  which  in  Douglas  Dale 
bears  no  small  resemblance  to  an  oasis,  surrounded  by 
tangled  woods  and  broken  moors,  occasionally  rocky, 
and  showing  large  tracts  of  that  bleak  dominion  to 
which  wild  creatures  gladly  escape  when  pressed  by  the 
neighbourhood  of  man. 

As  the  hunters  traversed  the  spots  which  separated 
the  field  from  the  wood,  there  was  always  a  stimulating 
imcertainty  what  sort  of  game  was  to  be  found,  and  the 
marksman,  with  his  bow  ready  bent,  or  his  javelin 
poised,  and  his  good  and  well-bitted  horse  thrown  upon 
its  haunches,  ready  for  a  sudden  start,  observed  watch- 
fully what  should  rush  from  the  covert,  so  that,  were  it 
deer,  boar,  wolf,  wild  cattle,  or  any  other  species  of 
game,  he  might  be  in  readiness. 

The  wolf  which,  on  account  of  its  ravages,  was  the 

88 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

most  obnoxious  of  the  beasts  of  prey,  did  not,  however, 
supply  the  degree  of  diversion  which  his  name  promised : 
he  usually  fled  far  —  in  some  instances  many  miles  — 
before  he  took  courage  to  turn  to  bay,  and  though 
formidable  at  such  moments,  destro3dng  both  dogs  and 
men  by  his  terrible  bite,  yet  at  other  times  was  rather 
despised  for  his  cowardice.  The  boar,  on  the  other  hand, 
was  a  much  more  irascible  and  courageous  animal. 

The  wild  cattle,  the  most  formidable  of  all  the  tenants 
of  the  ancient  Caledonian  forest,  were,  however,  to  the 
English  cavaliers  by  far  the  most  interesting  objects  of 
pursuit.^  Altogether,  the  ringing  of  bugles,  the  clatter- 
ing of  horses'  hoofs,  the  lowing  and  bellowing  of  the 
enraged  mountain  cattle,  the  sobs  of  deer  mangled  by 
throttling  dogs,  the  wild  shouts  of  exultation  of  the  men, 
made  a  chorus  which  extended  far  through  the  scene  in 
which  it  arose,  and  seemed  to  threaten  the  inhabitants 
of  the  valley  even  in  its  inmost  recesses. 

During  the  course  of  the  hunting,  when  a  stag  or  a 
boar  was  expected,  one  of  the  wild  cattle  often  came 
rushing  forward,  bearing  down  the  young  trees,  crashing 
the  branches  in  its  progress,  and  in  general  dispersing 
whatever  opposition  was  presented  to  it  by  the  hunters. 
Sir  John  de  Walton  was  the  only  one  of  the  chivalry  of 
the  party  who  individually  succeeded  in  mastering  one 
of  these  powerful  animals.  Like  a  Spanish  tauridor,  he 
bore  down  and  killed  with  his  lance  a  ferocious  bull ;  two 
well-grown  calves  and  three  kine  were  also  slain,  being 
unable  to  carry  off  the  quantity  of  arrows,  javelins,  and 
other  missiles  directed  against  them  by  the  archers  and 
drivers;  but  many  others,  in  spite  of  every  endeavour  to 

*  See  Note  4. 
89 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

intercept  them,  escaped  to  their  gloomy  haunts  in  the 
remote  skirts  of  the  mountain  called  Cairntable,  with 
their  hides  well-feathered  with  those  marks  of  human 
enmity. 

A  large  portion  of  the  morning  was  spent  in  this  way, 
until  a  particular  blast  from  the  master  of  the  hunt  an- 
nounced that  he  had  not  forgot  the  discreet  custom  of 
the  repast,  which,  on  such  occasions,  was  provided  for 
upon  a  scale  proportioned  to  the  multitude  who  had 
been  convened  to  attend  the  sport. 

The  blast  peculiar  to  the  time  assembled  the  whole 
party  in  an  open  space  in  a  wood,  where  their  numbers 
had  room  and  accommodation  to  sit  down  upon  the 
green  turf,  the  slain  game  affording  a  plentiful  supply 
for  roasting  or  broiling,  an  employment  in  which  the 
lower  class  were  all  immediately  engaged ;  while  punch- 
eons and  pipes,  placed  in  readiness,  and  scientifically 
opened,  supplied  Gascoigne  wine  and  mighty  ale  at  the 
pleasure  of  those  who  chose  to  appeal  to  them. 

The  knights,  whose  rank  did  not  admit  of  interference, 
were  seated  by  themselves,  and  ministered  to  by  their 
squires  and  pages,  to  whom  such  menial  services  were 
not  accounted  disgraceful,  but,  on  the  contrary,  a  proper 
step  of  their  education.  The  number  of  those  distin- 
guished persons  seated  upon  the  present  occasion  at  the 
table  of  dais,  as  it  was  called,  in  virtue  of  a  canopy  of 
green  boughs  with  which  it  was  overshadowed,  compre- 
hended Sir  John  de  Walton,  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  and 
some  reverend  brethren  dedicated  to  the  service  of  St. 
Bride,  who,  though  Scottish  ecclesiastics,  were  treated 
with  becoming  respect  by  the  English  soldiers.  One  or 
two  Scottish  retainers  or  vavasours,  maintaining,  per- 

90 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

haps  in  pn^dence,  a  suitable  deference  to  the  English 
knights,  sat  at  the  bottom  of  the  table,  and  as  many 
EngHsh  archers,  peculiarly  respected  by  their  superiors, 
were  invited,  according  to  the  modern  phrase,  to  the 
honours  of  the  sitting. 

'  Sir  John  de  Walton  sat  at  the  head  of  the  table;  his 
eye,  though  it  seemed  to  have  no  certain  object,  yet 
never  for  a  moment  remained  stationary,  but  glanced 
from  one  countenance  to  another  of  the  ring  formed  by 
his  guests,  for  such  they  all  were,  no  doubt,  though  he 
himself  could  hardly  have  told  upon  what  principle  he 
had  issued  the  invitations;  and  even  apparently  was  at  a 
loss  to  think  what,  in  one  or  two  cases,  had  procured 
him  the  honour  of  their  presence. 

One  person  in  particular  caught  De  Walton's  eye,  as 
having  the  air  of  a  redoubted  man-at-arms,  although  it 
seemed  as  if  fortune  had  not  of  late  smiled  upon  his 
enterprises.  He  was  a  tall  raw-boned  man,  of  an  ex- 
tremely rugged  countenance,  and  his  skin,  which  showed 
itself  through  many  a  loophole  in  his  dress,  exhibited  a 
complexion  which  must  have  endured  all  the  varieties 
of  an  outlawed  life;  and  akin  to  one  who  had,  according 
to  the  customary  phrase,  'ta'en  the  bent  with  Robin 
Bruce '  —  in  other  words,  occupied  the  moors  with  him 
as  an  insurgent.  Some  such  idea  certainly  crossed  De 
Walton's  mind.  Yet  the  apparent  coolness  and  absence 
of  alarm  with  which  the  stranger  sat  at  the  board  of  an 
English  officer,  at  the  same  time  being  wholly  in  his 
power,  had  much  in  it  which  was  irreconcilable  with 
any  such  suggestion.  De  Walton,  and  several  of  those 
about  him,  had  in  the  course  of  the  day  observed  that 
this  tattered  cavalier,  the  most  remarkable  parts  of 

91 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

whose  garb  and  equipments  consisted  of  an  old  coat-of- 
mail  and  a  rusted  yet  massive  partizan  about  eight  feet 
long,  was  possessed  of  superior  skill  in  the  art  of  hunting 
to  any  individual  of  their  numerous  party.  The  governor 
having  looked  at  this  suspicious  figure  until  he  had 
rendered  the  stranger  aware  of  the  special  interest  which 
he  attracted,  at  length  filled  a  goblet  of  choice  wine,  and 
requested  him,  as  one  of  the  best  pupils  of  Sir  Tristrem 
who  had  attended  upon  the  day's  chase,  to  pledge  him 
in  a  vintage  superior  to  that  supplied  to  the  general 
company. 

'I  suppose,  however,  sir,'  said  De  Walton,  'you  will 
have  no  objections  to  put  off  my  challenge  of  a  brimmer 
until  you  can  answer  my  pledge  in  Gascoigne  wine,  which 
grew  in  the  King's  own  demesne,  was  pressed  for  his  own 
lip,  and  is  therefore  fittest  to  be  emptied  to  his  Majesty's 
health  and  prosperity.' 

*  One  half  of  the  island  of  Britain,'  said  the  woodsman, 
with  great  composure,  'will  be  of  your  honour's  opinion; 
but,  as  I  belong  to  the  other  half,  even  the  choicest 
liquor  in  Gascony  cannot  render  that  health  acceptable 
to  me.' 

A  murmur  of  disapprobation  ran  through  the  warriors 
present;  the  priests  hung  their  heads,  looked  deadly 
grave,  and  muttered  their  paternosters. 

'You  see,  stranger,'  said  De  Walton,  sternly,  'that 
your  speech  discomposes  the  company.'  | 

'It  may  be  so,'  replied  the  man,  in  the  same  blunt 
tone ;  '  and  it  may  happen  that  there  is  no  harm  in  the 
speech  notwithstanding.' 

'Do  you  consider  that  it  is  made  in  my  presence?' 
answered  De  Walton. 

92 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

*Yes,  sir  governor.' 

'And  have  you  thought  what  must  be  the  necessary 
inference? '  continued  De  Walton. 

'I  may  form  a  round  guess/  answered  the  stranger, 
*what  I  might  have  to  fear,  if  your  safe-conduct  and 
word  of  honour,  when  inviting  me  to  this  hunting,  were 
less  trustworthy  than  I  know  full  well  it  really  is.  But 
I  am  your  guest;  your  meat  is  even  now  passing  my 
throat;  your  cup,  filled  with  right  good  wine,  I  have  just 
now  quaffed  off ;  and  I  would  not  fear  the  rankest 
paynim  infidel,  if  we  stood  in  such  relation  together, 
much  less  an  English  knight.  I  tell  you  besides,  sir 
knight,  you  undervalue  the  wine  we  have  quaffed.  The 
high  flavour  and  contents  of  your  cup,  grow  where  it 
will,  give  me  spirit  to  tell  you  one  or  two  circumstances, 
which  cold  cautious  sobriety  would,  in  a  moment  like 
this,  have  left  unsaid.  You  wish,  I  doubt  not,  to  know 
who  I  am?  My  Christian  name  is  Michael ;  my  surname 
is  that  of  Turnbull  —  a  redoubted  clan,  to  whose  hon- 
ours, even  in  the  field  of  hunting  or  of  battle,  I  have 
added  something.  My  abode  is  beneath  the  mountain 
of  Rubieslaw,  by  the  fair  streams  of  Teviot.  You  are 
surprised  that  I  know  how  to  hunt  the  wild  cattle  —  I, 
who  have  made  them  my  sport  from  infancy  in  the  lonely 
forests  of  Jed  and  Southdean,  and  have  killed  more  of 
them  than  you  or  any  Englishman  in  your  host  ever 
saw,  even  if  you  include  the  doughty  deeds  of  this 
day.' 

The  bold  Borderer  made  this  declaration  with  the 
same  provoking  degree  of  coolness  which  predominated 
in  his  whole  demeanour,  and  was  indeed  his  principal 
attribute.    His  effrontery  did  not  fail  to  produce  its 

93 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

effect  upon  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  instantly  called 
out —  'To  arms  —  to  arms!  Secure  the  spy  and  traitor. 
Ho!  pages  and  yeomen  —  William,  Anthony,  Bend-the- 
Bow,  and  Greenleaf  —  seize  the  traitor,  and  bind  him 
with  your  bowstrings  and  dog-leashes  —  bind  him,  I  say, 
until  the  blood  start  from  beneath  his  nails.' 

'Here  is  a  goodly  summons!'  said  Turnbull,  with  a 
sort  of  horse-laugh.  'Were  I  as  sure  of  being  answered 
by  twenty  men  I  could  name,  there  would  be  small 
doubt  of  the  upshot  of  this  day.' 

The  archers  thickened  around  the  hunter,  yet  laid  no 
hold  on  him,  none  of  them  being  willing  to  be  the  first 
who  broke  the  peace  proper  to  the  occasion. 

'Tell  me,'  said  De  Walton,  'thou  traitor,  for  what 
waitest  thou  here? ' 

'Simply  and  solely,'  said  the  Jed  forester,  Hhat  I  may 
deliver  up  to  the  Douglas  the  castle  of  his  ancestors,  and 
that  I  may  ensure  thee,  sir  Englishman,  the  payment 
of  thy  deserts,  by  cutting  that  very  throat,  which  thou 
makest  such  a  bawling  use  of.' 

At  the  same  time,  perceiving  that  the  yeomen  were 
crowding  behind  him  to  carry  their  lord's  commands 
into  execution  so  soon  as  they  should  be  reiterated,  the 
huntsman  turned  himself  short  round  upon  those  who 
appeared  about  to  surprise  him,  and  having,  by  the  sud- 
denness of  the  action,  induced  them  to  step  back  a  pace, 
he  proceeded  —  'Yes,  John  de  Walton,  my  purpose  was 
ere  now  to  have  put  thee  to  death,  as  one  whom  I  find 
in  possession  of  that  castle  and  territory  which  belong 
to  my  master,  a  knight  much  more  worthy  than  thyself; 
but  I  know  not  why  I  have  paused  —  thou  hast  given 
me  food  when  I  have  hungered  for  twenty-four  hours;  I 

94 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

have  not  therefore  had  the  heart  to  pay  thee  at  advan- 
tage as  thou  hast  deserved.  Begone  from  this  place  and 
country,  and  take  the  fair  warning  of  a  foe:  thou  hast 
constituted  thyself  the  mortal  enemy  of  this  people,  and 
there  are  those  among  them  who  have  seldom  been  in- 
jured or  defied  with  impunity.  Take  no  care  in  search- 
ing after  me  —  it  will  be  in  vain  —  until  I  meet  thee  at 
a  time  which  will  come  at  my  pleasure,  not  thine.  Push 
not  your  inquisition  into  cruelty,  to  discover  by  what 
means  I  have  deceived  you,  for  it  is  impossible  for  you 
to  learn;  and  with  this  friendly  advice,  look  at  me  and 
take  your  leave,  for,  although  we  shall  one  day  meet,  it 
may  be  long  ere  I  see  you  again.' 

De  Walton  remained  silent,  hoping  that  his  prisoner 
(for  he  saw  no  chance  of  his  escaping)  might,  in  his  com- 
municative humour,  drop  some  more  information,  and 
was  not  desirous  to  precipitate  a  fray  with  which  the 
scene  was  likely  to  conclude,  unconscious  at  the  same 
time  of  the  advantage  which  he  thereby  gave  the  daring 
hunter. 

As  TurnbuU  concluded  his  sentence,  he  made  a  sud- 
den spring  backwards,  which  carried  him  out  of  the 
circle  formed  around  him,  and,  before  they  were  aware 
of  his  intentions,  at  once  disappeared  among  the  imder- 
wood. 

'Seize  him  —  seize  him!'  repeated  De  Walton;  'let 
us  have  him  at  least  at  our  discretion,  unless  the  earth 
has  actually  swallowed  him.' 

This  indeed  appeared  not  unlikely,  for  near  the  place 
where  Turnbull  had  made  the  spring  there  yawned  a 
steep  ravine,  into  which  he  plunged,  and  descended  by 
the  assistance  of  branches,  bushes,  and  copsewood  until 

95 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

he  reached  the  bottom,  where  he  found  some  road  to 
the  outskirts  of  the  forest,  through  which  he  made  his 
escape,  leaving  the  most  expert  woodsmen  among  the 
pursuers  totally  at  fault,  and  unable  to  trace  his  foot- 
steps. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

This  interlude  carried  some  confusion  into  the  pro- 
ceedings of  the  hunt,  thus  suddenly  surprised  by  the 
apparition  of  Michael  Turnbull,  an  armed  and  avowed 
follower  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  a  sight  so  little  to  be 
expected  in  the  territory  where  his  master  was  held  a 
rebel  and  a  bandit,  and  where  he  himself  must  have  been 
well  known  to  most  of  the  peasantry  present.  The  cir- 
cumstance made  an  obvious  impression  on  the  Enghsh 
chivalry.  Sir  John  de  Walton  looked  grave  and  thought- 
ful, ordered  the  hunters  to  be  assembled  on  the  spot,  and 
directed  his  soldiers  to  commence  a  strict  search  among 
the  persons  who  had  attended  the  chase,  so  as  to  dis- 
cover whether  Turnbull  had  any  companions  among 
them;  but  it  was  too  late  to  make  that  inquiry  in  the 
strict  fashion  which  De  Walton  directed. 

The  Scottish  attendants  on  the  chase,  when  they 
beheld  that  the  hunting,  under  pretence  of  which  they 
were  called  together,  was  interrupted  for  the  purpose  of 
laying  hands  upon  their  persons,  and  subjecting  them 
to  examination,  took  care  to  suit  their  answers  to  the 
questions  put  to  them  —  in  a  word,  they  kept  their  own 
secret,  if  they  had  any.  Many  of  them,  conscious  of 
being  the  weaker  party,  became  afraid  of  foul  play,  slipt 
away  from  the  places  to  which  they  had  been  appointed, 
and  left  the  hunting-match  like  men  who  conceived  they 
had  been  invited  with  no  friendly  intent.  Sir  John  de 
Walton  became  aware  of  the  decreasing  numbers  of  the 

45  97 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Scottish,  their  gradual  disappearance  awakening  in  the 
English  knight  that  degree  of  suspicion  which  had  of 
late  become  his  peculiar  characteristic. 

'Take,  I  pray  thee,'  said  he  to  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
'as  many  men-at-arms  as  thou  canst  get  together  in  five 
minutes'  space,  and  at  least  a  hundred  of  the  mounted 
archers,  and  ride  as  fast  as  thou  canst,  without  permit- 
ting them  to  straggle  from  thy  standard,  to  reinforce  the 
garrison  of  Douglas;  for  I  have  my  own  thoughts  what 
may  have  been  attempted  on  the  castle,  when  we 
observe  with  our  own  eyes  such  a  nest  of  traitors  here 
assembled.' 

'With  reverence.  Sir  John,'  replied  Aymer,  'you  shoot 
in  this  matter  rather  beyond  the  mark.  That  the 
Scottish  peasants  have  bad  thoughts  against  us,  I  will  be 
the  last  to  deny;  but,  long  debarred  from  any  silvan 
sport,  you  cannot  wonder  at  their  crowding  to  any 
diversion  by  wood  or  river,  and  still  less  at  their  being 
easily  alarmed  as  to  the  certainty  of  the  safe  footing  on 
which  they  stand  with  us.  The  least  rough  usage  is  Hkely 
to  strike  them  with  fear  and  with  the  desire  of  escape, 
and  so  — ' 

'And  so,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  had  listened 
with  a  degree  of  impatience  scarce  consistent  with  the 
grave  and  formal  poHteness  which  one  knight  was  accus- 
tomed to  bestow  upon  another  —  '  and  so  I  would  rather 
see  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  busy  his  horse's  heels  to  exe- 
cute my  orders  than  give  his  tongue  the  trouble  of  im- 
pugning them.' 

At  this  sharp  reprimand,  all  present  looked  at  each 
other  with  indications  of  marked  displeasure.  Sir 
Aymer  was  highly  offended,  but  saw  it  was  no  time  to 

98 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

indulge  in  reprisal.  He  bowed  until  the  feather  which 
was  in  his  barret-cap  mingled  with  his  horse's  mane, 
and  without  reply  —  for  he  did  not  even  choose  to  trust 
his  voice  in  reply  at  the  moment  —  headed  a  consider- 
able body  of  cavalry  by  the  straightest  road  back  to  the 
Castle  of  Douglas. 

When  he  came  to  one  of  those  eminences  from  which 
he  could  observe  the  massive  and  complicated  towers 
and  walls  of  the  old  fortress,  with  the  glitter  of  the  broad 
lake  which  surrounded  it  on  three  sides,  he  felt  much 
pleasure  at  the  sight  of  the  great  banner  of  England, 
which  streamed  from  the  highest  part  of  the  building. 
'I  knew  it/  he  internally  said  —  'I  was  certain  that  Sir 
John  de  Walton  had  become  a  very  woman  in  the  indul- 
gence of  his  fears  and  suspicions.  Alas !  that  a  situation 
of  responsibility  should  so  much  have  altered  a  dispo- 
sition which  I  have  known  so  noble  and  so  knightly! 
By  this  good  day,  I  scarce  know  in  what  manner  I  should 
demean  me  when  thus  publicly  rebuked  before  the  gar- 
rison. Certainly  he  deserves  that  I  should,  at  some  time 
or  other,  let  him  understand  that,  however  he  may  tri- 
umph in  the  exercise  of  his  short-lived  command,  yet, 
when  man  is  to  meet  with  man,  it  will  puzzle  Sir  John 
de  Walton  to  show  himself  the  superior  of  Aymer  de 
Valence,  or  perhaps  to  establish  himself  as  his  equal. 
But  if,  on  the  contrary,  his  fears,  however  fantastic,  are 
sincere  at  the  moment  he  expresses  them,  it  becomes 
me  to  obey  punctually  commands  which,  however  ab- 
surd, are  imposed  in  consequence  of  the  governor's 
beHef  that  they  are  rendered  necessary  by  the  times,  and 
not  inventions  designed  to  vex  and  domineer  over  his 
officers  in  the  indulgence  of  his  official  powers.  I  would 

99 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  knew  which  is  the  true  statement  of  the  case,  and 
whether  the  once  famed  De  Walton  is  become  afraid  of 
his  enemies  more  than  fits  a  knight,  or  makes  imaginary- 
doubts  the  pretext  of  tyrannising  over  his  friend.  I 
cannot  say  it  would  make  much  difference  to  me,  but  I 
would  rather  have  it  that  the  man  I  once  loved  had 
turned  a  petty  tyrant  than  a  weak-spirited  coward;  and 
I  would  be  content  that  he  should  study  to  vex  me, 
rather  than  be  afraid  of  his  own  shadow.' 

With  these  ideas  passing  in  his  mind,  the  young 
knight  crossed  the  causeway  which  traversed  the  piece 
of  water  that  fed  the  moat,  and,  passing  under  the 
strongly  fortified  gateway,  gave  strict  orders  for  letting 
down  the  portcullis  and  elevating  the  drawbridge,  even 
at  the  appearance  of  De  Walton's  own  standard  before  it. 

A  slow  and  guarded  movement  from  the  hunting- 
ground  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas  gave  the  governor  ample 
time  to  recover  his  temper,  and  to  forget  that  his  young 
friend  had  shown  less  alacrity  than  usual  in  obeying 
his  commands.  He  was  even  disposed  to  treat  as  a  jest 
the  length  of  time  and  extreme  degree  of  ceremony  with 
which  every  point  of  martial  discipHne  was  observed  on 
his  own  re-admission  to  the  castle,  though  the  raw  air 
of  a  wet  spring  evening  whistled  around  his  own  unshel- 
tered person  and  those  of  his  followers,  as  they  waited 
before  the  castle  gate  for  the  exchange  of  passwords,  the 
delivery  of  keys,  and  all  the  slow  minutiae  attendant  upon 
the  movements  of  a  garrison  in  a  well-guarded  fortress. 

'Come,'  said  he,  to  an  old  knight,  who  was  peevishly 
blaming  the  lieutenant-governor,  'it  was  my  own  fault: 
I  spoke  but  now  to  Aymer  de  Valence  with  more  author- 
itative emphasis  than  his  newly-dubbed  dignity  was 

lOO 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

pleased  with,  and  this  precise  style  of  obedience  is  a 
piece  of  not  unnatural  and  very  pardonable  revenge. 
Well,  we  will  owe  him  a  return,  Sir  Philip  —  shall  we 
not?  This  is  not  a  night  to  keep  a  man  at  the  gate.' 

This  dialogue,  overheard  by  some  of  the  squires  and 
pages,  was  bandied  about  from  one  to  another,  until  it 
entirely  lost  the  tone  of  good-humour  in  which  it  was 
spoken,  and  the  offence  was  one  for  which  Sir  John  de 
Walton  and  old  Sir  Philip  were  to  meditate  revenge,  and 
was  said  to  have  been  represented  by  the  governor  as  a 
piece  of  mortal  and  intentional  offence  on  the  part  of  his 
subordinate  officer. 

Thus  an  increasing  feud  went  on  from  day  to  day 
between  two  warriors  who,  with  no  just  cause  of  quarrel, 
had  at  heart  every  reason  to  esteem  and  love  each  other. 
It  became  visible  in  the  fortress  even  to  those  of  the 
lower  rank,  who  hoped  to  gain  some  consequence  by 
intermingling  in  the  species  of  emulation  produced  by 
the  jealousy  of  the  commanding-officers  —  an  emulation 
which  may  take  place,  indeed,  in  the  present  day,  but 
can  hardly  have  the  same  sense  of  wounded  pride  and 
jealous  dignity  attached  to  it  which  existed  in  times 
when  the  personal  honour  of  knighthood  rendered  those 
who  possessed  it  jealous  of  every  punctilio. 

So  many  little  debates  took  place  between  the  two 
knights,  that  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  thought  himself 
under  the  necessity  of  writing  to  his  uncle  and  name- 
sake, the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  stating  that  his  officer.  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  had  unfortunately  of  late  taken  some 
degree  of  prejudice  against  him,  and  that,  after  having 
borne  with  many  provoking  instances  of  his  displeasure, 
he  was  now  compelled  to  request  that  his  place  of  service 

lOI 


m  STATE  C0LIE8E  LMRT 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

should  be  changed  from  the  Castle  of  Douglas  to  wher- 
ever honour  could  be  acquired,  and  time  might  be  given 
to  put  an  end  to  his  present  cause  of  complaint  against 
his  commanding-officer.  Through  the  whole  letter 
young  Sir  Aymer  was  particularly  cautious  how  he 
expressed  his  sense  of  Sir  John  de  Walton's  jealousy  or 
severe  usage;  but  such  sentiments  are  not  easily  con- 
cealed, and  in  spite  of  him  an  air  of  displeasure  glanced 
out  from  several  passages,  and  indicated  his  discontent 
with  his  uncle's  old  friend  and  companion-in-arms,  and 
with  the  sphere  of  military  duty  which  his  uncle  had 
himself  assigned  him. 

An  accidental  movement  among  the  English  troops 
brought  Sir  Aymer  an  answer  to  his  letter  sooner  than 
he  could  have  hoped  for  at  that  time  of  day,  in  the  ordin- 
ary course  of  correspondence,  which  was  then  extremely 
slow  and  interrupted. 

Pembroke,  a  rigid  old  warrior,  entertained  the  most 
partial  opinion  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  was  a  work 
as  it  were  of  his  own  hands,  and  was  indignant  to  find 
that  his  nephew,  whom  he  considered  as  a  mere  boy, 
elated  by  having  had  the  dignity  of  knighthood  con- 
ferred upon  him  at  an  age  unusually  early,  did  not  abso- 
lutely coincide  with  him  in  this  opinion.  He  replied  to 
him,  accordingly,  in  a  tone  of  high  displeasure,  and 
expressed  himself  as  a  person  of  rank  would  write  to  a 
young  and  dependent  kinsman  upon  the  duties  of  his 
profession;  and,  as  he  gathered  his  nephew's  cause  of 
complaint  from  his  own  letter,  he  conceived  that  he  did 
him  no  injustice  in  making  it  slighter  than  it  really  was. 
He  reminded  the  young  man  that  the  study  of  chivalry 
consisted  in  the  faithful  and  patient  discharge  of  mili- 

I02 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

tary  service,  whether  of  high  or  low  degree,  according 
to  the  circumstances  in  which  war  placed  the  champion. 
That,  above  all,  the  post  of  danger,  which  Douglas 
Castle  had  been  termed  by  common  consent,  was  also 
the  post  of  honour;  and  that  a  young  man  should  be 
cautious  how  he  incurred  the  supposition  of  being  desir- 
ous of  quitting  his  present  honourable  command,  be- 
cause he  was  tired  of  the  discipline  of  a  military  director 
so  renowned  as  Sir  John  de  Walton.  Much  also  there 
was,  as  was  natural  in  a  letter  of  that  time,  concerning  the 
duty  of  young  men,  whether  in  council  or  in  arms,  to  be 
guided  implicitly  by  their  elders;  and  it  was  observed, 
with  justice,  that  the  commanding-ofiicer,  who  had  put 
himself  into  the  situation  of  being  responsible  with  his 
honour,  if  not  his  life,  for  the  event  of  the  siege  or  block- 
ade, might  justly,  and  in  a  degree  more  than  common, 
claim  the  impHcit  direction  of  the  whole  defence.  Lastly, 
Pembroke  reminded  his  nephew  that  he  was,  in  a  great 
measure,  dependent  upon  the  report  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton  for  the  character  which  he  was  to  sustain  in 
after  life;  and  reminded  him  that  a  few  actions  of  head- 
long and  inconsiderate  valour  would  not  so  firmly  found 
his  military  reputation  as  months  and  years  spent  in 
regular,  humble,  and  steady  obedience  to  the  commands 
which  the  governor  of  Douglas  Castle  might  think  neces- 
sary in  so  dangerous  a  conjuncture. 

This  missive  arrived  within  so  short  a  time  after  the 
despatch  of  the  letter  to  which  it  was  a  reply,  that  Sir 
Aymer  was  almost  tempted  to  suppose  that  his  uncle 
had  some  mode  of  corresponding  with  De  Walton 
unknown  to  the  young  knight  himself  and  to  the  rest 
of  the  garrison.  And  as  the  earl  alluded  to  some  particu- 

103 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

lar  displeasure  which  had  been  exhibited  by  De  Valence 
on  a  late  trivial  occasion,  his  uncle's  knowledge  of  this 
and  other  minutiae  seemed  to  confirm  his  idea  that  his 
own  conduct  was  watched  in  a  manner  which  he  did  not 
feel  honourable  to  himself  or  dignified  on  the  part  of  his 
relative;  in  a  word,  he  conceived  himself  exposed  to  that 
sort  of  surveillance  of  which,  in  all  ages,  the  young  have 
accused  the  old.  It  hardly  needs  to  say  that  the  admo- 
nition of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke  greatly  chafed  the  fiery 
spirit  of  his  nephew,  insomuch  that,  if  the  earl  had  wished 
to  write  a  letter  purposely  to  increase  the  prejudices 
which  he  desired  to  put  an  end  to,  he  could  not  have 
made  use  of  terms  better  calculated  for  that  efi'ect. 

The  truth  was,  that  the  old  archer,  Gilbert  Greenleaf, 
had,  without  the  knowledge  of  the  young  knight,  gone 
to  Pembroke's  camp,  in  Ayrshire,  and  was  recommended 
by  Sir  John  de  Walton  to  the  earl  as  a  person  who  could 
give  such  minute  information  respecting  Aymer  de 
Valence  as  he  might  desire  to  receive.  The  old  archer 
was,  as  we  have  seen,  a  formalist,  and  when  pressed  on 
some  points  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence's  discipline,  he  did 
not  hesitate  to  throw  out  hints  which,  connected  with 
those  in  the  knight's  letter  to  his  uncle,  made  the  severe 
old  earl  adopt  too  implicitly  the  idea  that  his  nephew 
was  indulging  a  spirit  of  insubordination,  and  a  sense  of 
impatience  under  authority,  most  dangerous  to  the 
character  of  a  young  soldier.  A  little  explanation  might 
have  produced  a  complete  agreement  in  the  sentiments 
of  both;  but  for  this  fate  allowed  neither  time  nor  oppor- 
tunity; and  the  old  earl  was  unfortunately  induced  to 
become  a  party,  instead  of  a  negotiator,  in  the  quarrel, 
And  by  decision  more  embroil'd  the  fray. 
104 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Sir  John  de  Walton  soon  perceived  that  the  receipt  of 
Pembroke's  letter  did  not  in  any  respect  alter  the  cold, 
ceremonious  conduct  of  his  Ueu tenant  towards  him, 
which  limited  their  intercourse  to  what  their  situation 
rendered  indispensable,  and  exhibited  no  advances  to 
any  more  frank  or  intimate  connexion.  Thus,  as  may 
sometimes  be  the  case  between  officers  in  their  relative 
situations  even  at  the  present  day,  they  remained  in 
that  cold,  stiff  degree  of  official  communication  in  which 
their  intercourse  was  limited  to  as  few  expressions  as 
the  respective  duties  of  their  situation  absolutely  de- 
manded. Such  a  state  of  misunderstanding  is,  in  fact, 
worse  than  a  downright  quarrel:  the  latter  may  be 
explained  or  apologised  for,  or  become  the  subject  of 
mediation,  but  in  such  a  case  as  the  former  an  eclaircisse- 
ment  is  as  unlikely  to  take  place  as  a  general  engagement 
between  two  armies  which  have  taken  up  strong  defen- 
sive positions  on  both  sides.  Duty,  however,  obliged 
the  two  principal  persons  in  the  garrison  of  Douglas 
Castle  to  be  often  together,  when  they  were  so  far  from 
seeking  an  opportunity  of  making  up  matters,  that  they 
usually  revived  ancient  subjects  of  debate. 

It  was  upon  such  an  occasion  that  De  Walton,  in  a 
very  formal  manner,  asked  De  Valence  in  what  capacity, 
and  for  how  long  time,  it  was  his  pleasure  that  the  min- 
strel called  Bertram  should  remain  at  the  castle. 

'A  week,'  said  the  governor,  'is  certainly  long  enough, 
in  this  time  and  place,  to  express  the  hospitality  due  to  a 
minstrel.' 

'Certainly,'  replied  the  young  man;  'I  have  not  in- 
terest enough  in  the  subject  to  form  a  single  wish  upon 
it.' 

105 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

that  case/  resumed  De  Walton,  'I  shall  request 
is  person  to  cut  short  his  visit  at  the  Castle  of 
iglas.' 

''*!  know  no  particular  interest/  replied  A^nner  de 
Valence,  'which  I  can  possibly  have  in  this  man's 
motions.  He  is  here  under  pretence  of  making  some 
researches  after  the  writings  of  Thomas  of  Ercildoun, 
called  the  Rhymer,  which  he  says  are  infinitely  curious, 
and  of  which  there  is  a  volume  in  the  old  baron's  study, 
saved  somehow  from  the  flames  at  the  last  conflagration. 
This  told,  you  know  as  much  of  his  errand  as  I  do;  and 
if  you  hold  the  presence  of  a  wandering  old  man  and  the 
neighbourhood  of  a  boy  dangerous  to  the  castle  under 
your  charge,  you  will  no  doubt  do  well  to  dismiss  them 
—  it  will  cost  but  a  word  of  your  mouth.' 

'Pardon  me,'  said  De  Walton;  'the  minstrel  came 
here  as  one  of  your  retinue,  and  I  could  not,  in  fitting 
courtesy,  send  him  away  without  your  leave.' 

'I  am  sorry,  then,'  answered  Sir  Aymer,  'in  my  turn, 
that  you  did  not  mention  your  purpose  sooner.  I  never 
entertained  a  dependent  vassal  or  servant  whose  resi- 
dence in  the  castle  I  would  wish  to  have  prolonged  a 
moment  beyond  your  honourable  pleasure.' 

'I  am  sorry,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  'that  we  two 
have  of  late  grown  so  extremely  courteous  that  it  is 
difiicult  for  us  to  understand  each  other.  This  minstrel 
and  his  son  come  from  we  know  not  where,  and  are 
bound  we  know  not  whither.  There  is  a  report  among 
some  of  your  escort  that  this  fellow  Bertram  upon  the 
way  had  the  audacity  to  impugn,  even  to  your  face,  the 
King  of  England's  right  to  the  crown  of  Scotland,  and 
that  he  debated  the  point  with  you,  while  your  other 

io6 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

attendants  were  desired  by  you  to  keep  behind  and  out 
of  hearing.' 

'Hah!'  said  Sir  Aymer,  'do  you  mean  to  found  on 
that  circumstance  any  charge  against  my  loyalty?  I 
pray  you  to  observe  that  such  an  averment  would  touch 
mine  honour,  which  I  am  ready  and  willing  to  defend 
to  the  last  gasp.' 

'No  doubt  of  it,  sir  knight,'  answered  the  governor; 
*but  it  is  the  strolling  minstrel,  and  not  the  high-born 
English  knight,  against  whom  the  charge  is  brought. 
Well,  the  minstrel  comes  to  this  castle,  and  he  intimates 
a  wish  that  his  son  should  be  allowed  to  take  up  his 
quarters  at  the  little  old  convent  of  St.  Bride,  where  two 
or  three  Scottish  nuns  and  friars  are  still  permitted  to 
reside,  most  of  them  rather  out  of  respect  to  their  order 
than  for  any  good-will  which  they  are  supposed  to  bear 
the  English  or  their  sovereign.  It  may  also  be  noticed 
that  this  leave  was  purchased  by  a  larger  sum  of  money, 
if  my  information  be  correct,  than  is  usually  to  be  found 
in  the  purses  of  travelling  minstrels,  a  class  of  wanderers 
aUke  remarkable  for  their  poverty  and  for  their  genius. 
What  do  you  think  of  all  this? ' 

'I!'  replied  De  Valence.  'I  am  happy  that  my  situa- 
tion, as  a  soldier  under  command,  altogether  dispenses 
with  my  thinking  of  it  at  all.  My  post,  as  Heutenant  of 
your  castle,  is  such  that,  if  I  can  manage  matters  so  as 
to  call  my  honour  and  my  soul  my  own,  I  must  think 
that  quite  enough  of  freewill  is  left  at  my  command ;  and 
I  promise  you  shall  not  have  again  to  reprove,  or  send  a 
bad  report  of  me  to  my  uncle,  on  that  account.' 

'This  is  beyond  sufferance!'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
half  aside,  and  then  proceeded  aloud  —  '  Do  not,  for 

107 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Heaven's  sake,  do  yourself  and  me  the  injustice  of  sup- 
posing that  I  am  endeavouring  to  gain  an  advantage 
over  you  by  these  questions.  Recollect,  young  knight, 
that,  when  you  evade  giving  your  commanding-ofiEicer 
your  advice  when  required,  you  fail  as  much  in  point 
of  duty  as  if  you  declined  affording  him  the  assistance 
of  your  sword  and  lance.' 

'Such  being  the  case,'  answered  De  Valence,  'let  me 
know  plainly  on  what  matter  it  is  that  you  require  my 
opinion.  I  will  deliver  it  plainly,  and  stand  by  the  result, 
even  if  I  should  have  the  misfortune  —  a  crime  unpar- 
donable in  so  young  a  man  and  so  inferior  an  officer  — 
to  differ  from  that  of  Sir  John  de  Walton.' 

*I  would  ask  you,  then,  sir  knight  of  Valence,'  an- 
swered the  governor,  '  what  is  your  opinion  with  respect 
to  this  minstrel  Bertram,  and  whether  the  suspicions 
respecting  him  and  his  son  are  not  such  as  to  call  upon 
me,  in  performance  of  my  duty,  to  put  them  to  a  close 
examination,  with  the  question  ordinary  and  extraor- 
dinary, as  is  usual  in  such  cases,  and  to  expel  them 
not  only  from  the  castle,  but  from  the  whole  territory 
of  Douglas  Dale,  under  pain  of  scourging,  if  they  be 
again  found  wandering  in  these  parts? ' 

'You  ask  me  my  opinion,'  said  De  Valence,  'and  you 
shall  have  it,  sir  knight  of  Walton,  as  freely  and  fairly 
as  if  matters  stood  betwixt  us  on  a  footing  as  friendly  as 
they  ever  did.  I  agree  with  you  that  most  of  those  who 
in  these  days  profess  the  science  of  minstrelsy  are  alto- 
gether unqualified  to  support  the  higher  pretensions  of 
that  noble  order.  Minstrels  by  right  are  men  who  have 
dedicated  themselves  to  the  noble  occupation  of  cele- 
brating knightly  deeds  and  generous  principles:  it  is  in 

loS 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

their  verse  that  the  valiant  knight  is  handed  down  to 
fame,  and  the  poet  has  a  right,  nay,  is  bound,  to  emu- 
late the  virtues  which  he  praises.  The  looseness  of  the 
times  has  diminished  the  consequence  and  impaired  the 
morality  of  this  class  of  wanderers :  their  satire  and  their 
praise  are  now  too  often  distributed  on  no  other  princi- 
ple than  love  of  gain;  yet  let  us  hope  that  there  are  still 
among  them  some  who  know,  and  also  willingly  perform, 
their  duty.  My  own  opinion  is,  that  this  Bertram  holds 
himself  as  one  who  has  not  shared  in  the  degradation  of 
his  brethren,  nor  bent  the  knee  to  the  mammon  of  the 
times;  it  must  remain  with  you,  sir,  to  judge  whether 
such  a  person,  honourably  and  morally  disposed,  can 
cause  any  danger  to  the  Castle  of  Douglas.  But  believ- 
ing, from  the  sentiments  he  has  manifested  to  me,  that 
he  is  incapable  of  playing  the  part  of  a  traitor,  I  must 
strongly  remonstrate  against  his  being  punished  as  one, 
or  subjected  to  the  torture  within  the  walls  of  an  English 
garrison.  I  should  blush  for  my  country  if  it  required 
of  us  to  inflict  such  wanton  misery  upon  wanderers 
whose  sole  fault  is  poverty;  and  your  own  knightly 
sentiments  will  suggest  more  than  would  become  me  to 
state  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  unless  in  so  far  as  is  neces- 
sary to  apologise  for  retaining  my  own  opinion.* 

Sir  John  de  Walton's  dark  brow  was  stricken  with  red 
when  he  heard  an  opinion  deHvered  in  opposition  to  his 
own,  which  plainly  went  to  stigmatise  his  advice  as 
ungenerous,  unfeeling,  and  unknightly.  He  made  an 
effort  to  preserve  his  temper,  while  he  thus  replied  with 
a  degree  of  calmness  —  'You  have  given  your  opinion, 
Sir  Aymer  de  Valence;  and  that  you  have  given  it 
openly  and  boldly,  without  regard  to  my  own,  I  thank 

109 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

you.  It  is  not  quite  so  clear  that  I  am  obliged  to  defer  my 
own  sentiments  to  yours,  in  case  the  rules  on  which  I 
hold  my  office,  the  commands  of  the  King,  and  the 
observations  which  I  may  personally  have  made,  shall 
recommend  to  me  a  different  line  of  conduct  from  that 
which  you  think  it  right  to  suggest.' 

De  Walton  bowed,  in  conclusion,  with  great  gravity; 
and  the  young  knight,  returning  the  reverence  with 
exactly  the  same  degree  of  stiff  formality,  asked  whether 
there  were  any  particular  orders  respecting  his  duty  in 
the  castle;  and  having  received  an  answer  in  the  nega- 
tive, took  his  departure. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  after  an  expression  of  impatience, 
as  if  disappointed  at  finding  that  the  advance  which  he 
had  made  towards  an  explanation  with  his  young  friend 
had  proved  unexpectedly  abortive,  composed  his  brow 
as  if  to  deep  thought,  and  walked  several  times  to  and 
fro  in  the  apartment,  considering  what  course  he  was 
to  take  in  these  circumstances.  '  It  is  hard  to  censure 
him  severely,'  he  said,  'when  I  recollect  that,  on  first 
entering  upon  life,  my  own  thoughts  and  feelings  would 
have  been  the  same  with  those  of  this  giddy  and  hot- 
headed, but  generous,  boy.  Now  prudence  teaches  me 
to  suspect  mankind  in  a  thousand  instances  where  per- 
haps there  is  not  sufficient  ground.  If  I  am  disposed  to 
venture  my  own  honour  and  fortune,  rather  than  an 
idle  travelling  minstrel  should  suffer  a  little  pain,  which 
at  all  events  I  might  make  up  to  him  by  money,  still, 
have  I  a  right  to  run  the  risk  of  a  conspiracy  against 
the  King,  and  thus  advance  the  treasonable  surrender 
of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  for  which  I  know  so  many 
schemes  are  formed;  for  which,  too,  none  can  be  im- 

IIO 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

agined  so  desperate  but  agents  will  be  found  bold  enough 
to  undertake  the  execution?  A  man  who  holds  my  situa- 
tion, although  the  slave  of  conscience,  ought  to  learn  to 
set  aside  those  false  scruples  which  assume  the  appear- 
ance of  flowing  from  our  own  moral  feehng,  whereas 
they  are  in  fact  instilled  by  the  suggestion  of  affected 
delicacy.  I  will  not,  I  swear  by  Heaven,  be  infected  by 
the  f olHes  of  a  boy  such  as  Aymer ;  I  will  not,  that  I  may 
defer  to  his  caprices,  lose  all  that  love,  honour,  and 
ambition  can  propose  for  the  reward  of  twelve  months' 
service,  of  a  nature  the  most  watchful  and  unpleasant. 
I  will  go  straight  to  my  point,  and  use  the  ordinary 
precautions  in  Scotland  which  I  should  employ  in 
Normandy  or  Gascony.  What  ho!  page,  who  waits 
there?' 

One  of  his  attendants  repHed  to  his  summons.  '  Seek 
me  out  Gilbert  Greenleaf  the  archer,  and  tell  him  I 
would  speak  with  him  touching  the  two  bows  and  the 
sheaf  of  arrows  concerning  which  I  gave  him  a  com- 
mission to  Ayr.' 

A  few  minutes  intervened  after  the  order  was  given, 
when  the  archer  entered,  holding  in  his  hand  two  bow- 
staves,  not  yet  fashioned,  and  a  number  of  arrows 
secured  together  with  a  thong.  He  bore  the  mysterious 
looks  of  one  whose  apparent  business  is  not  of  very  great 
consequence,  but  is  meant  as  a  passport  for  other  affairs 
which  are  in  themselves  of  a  secret  nature.  Accordingly, 
as  the  knight  was  silent,  and  afforded  no  other  opening 
for  Greenleaf,  that  judicious  negotiator  proceeded  to 
enter  upon  such  as  was  open  to  him. 

'  Here  are  the  bow-staves,  noble  sir,  which  you  desired 
me  to  obtain  while  I  was  at  Ayr  with  the  Earl  of  Pem- 

III 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

broke's  army.  They  are  not  so  good  as  I  could  have 
wished,  yet  are  perhaps  of  better  quality  than  could 
have  been  procured  by  any  other  than  a  fair  judge  of 
the  weapon.  The  Earl  of  Pembroke's  whole  camip  are 
frantic  mad  in  order  to  procure  real  Spanish  staves  from 
the  Groyne  and  other  ports  in  Spain;  but  though  two 
vessels  laden  with  such  came  into  the  port  of  Ayr,  said 
to  be  for  the  King's  army,  yet  I  believe  never  one-half 
of  them  have  come  into  English  hands.  These  two  grew 
in  Sherwood,  which  having  been  seasoned  since  the  time 
of  Robin  Hood,  are  not  likely  to  fail  either  in  strength 
or  in  aim,  in  so  strong  a  hand,  and  with  so  just  an  eye, 
as  those  of  the  men  who  wait  on  your  worship.' 

'And  who  has  got  the  rest,  since  two  ships'  cargoes  of 
new  bow-staves  are  arrived  at  Ayr,  and  thou  with  diflS- 
culty  hast  only  procured  me  two  old  ones?'  said  the 
governor. 

'Faith,  I  pretend  not  skill  enough  to  know,'  answered 
Greenleaf,  shrugging  his  shoulders.  'Talk  there  is  of 
plots  in  that  country  as  well  as  here.  It  is  said  that  their 
Bruce  and  the  rest  of  his  kinsmen  intend  a  new  May- 
game,  and  that  the  outlawed  king  proposes  to  land  near 
to  Turnberry  early  in  summer,  with  a  number  of  stout 
kernes  from  Ireland ;  and  no  doubt  the  men  of  his  mock 
earldom  of  Carrick  are  getting  them  ready  with  bow  and 
spear  for  so  hopeful  an  undertaking.  I  reckon  that  it  will 
not  cost  us  the  expense  of  more  than  a  few  score  of 
sheaves  of  arrows  to  put  all  that  matter  to  rights.' 

'Do  you  talk  then  of  conspiracies  in  this  part  of  the 
country,  Greenleaf?'  said  De  Walton.  'I  know  you  are 
a  sagacious  fellow,  well  bred  for  many  a  day  to  the  use 
of  the  bent  stick  and  string,  and  will  not  allow  such  a 

112 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

practice  to  go  on  under  thy  nose  without  taking  notice 
of  it.' 

*I  am  old  enough,  Heaven  knows/  said  Greenleaf, 
'and  have  had  good  experience  of  these  Scottish  wars, 
and  know  well  whether  these  native  Scots  are  a  people 
to  be  trusted  to  by  knight  or  yeoman.  Say  they  are  a 
false  generation,  and  say  a  good  archer  told  you  so,  who, 
with  a  fair  aim,  seldom  missed  a  hand's-breadth  of  the 
white.  Ah!  sir,  your  honour  knows  how  to  deal  with 
them:  ride  them  strongly  and  rein  them  hard;  you  are 
not  like  those  simple  novices  who  imagine  that  all  is  to 
be  done  by  gentleness,  and  wish  to  parade  themselves 
as  courteous  and  generous  to  those  faithless  mountain- 
eers, who  never,  in  the  course  of  their  lives,  knew  any 
tincture  either  of  courteousness  or  generosity.' 

'Thou  alludest  to  some  one,'  said  the  governor,  'and  I 
charge  thee,  Gilbert,  to  be  plain  and  sincere  with  me. 
Thou  knowest,  methinks,  that  in  trusting  me  thou  wilt 
come  to  no  harm? ' 

'It  is  true  —  it  is  true,  sir,'  said  the  old  remnant  of  the 
wars,  carrying  his  hand  to  his  brow;  'but  it  were  impru- 
dent to  communicate  all  the  remarks  which  float 
through  an  old  man's  brain  in  the  idle  moments  of  such 
a  garrison  as  this.  One  stumbles  unawares  on  fantasies 
as  well  as  realities,  and  thus  one  gets,  not  altogether 
undeservedly,  the  character  of  a  tale-bearer  and  mischief- 
maker  among  his  comrades,  and  methinks  I  would  not 
willingly  fall  under  that  accusation.' 

'Speak  frankly  to  me,'  answered  De  Walton,  'and 
have  no  fear  of  being  misconstrued,  whosoever  the  con- 
versation may  concern.' 

'Nay,  in  plain  truth,'  answered  Gilbert,  'I  fear  not 
«  113 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  greatness  of  this  young  knight,  being,  as  I  am,  the 
oldest  soldier  in  the  garrison,  and  having  drawn  a  bow- 
string long  and  many  a  day  ere  he  was  weaned  from  his 
nurse's  breast.' 

*It  is  then,'  said  De  Walton,  'my  lieutenant  and  friend, 
Aymer  de  Valence,  at  whom  your  suspicions  point? ' 

'At  nothing,'  replied  the  archer,  'touching  the  honour 
of  the  young  knight  himself,  who  is  as  brave  as  the  sword 
he  wears,  and,  his  youth  considered,  stands  high  in  the 
roll  of  English  chivalry;  but  he  is  young,  as  your  wor- 
ship knows,  and  I  own  that  in  the  choice  of  his  company 
he  disturbs  and  alarms  me.' 

'Why,  you  know,  Greenleaf,'  answered  the  governor, 
'  that  in  the  leisure  of  a  garrison  a  knight  cannot  always 
confine  his  sports  and  pleasures  among  those  of  his  own 
rank,  who  are  not  numerous,  and  may  not  be  so  game- 
some or  fond  of  froHc  as  he  would  desire  them  to  be.' 

'I  know  that  well,'  answered  the  archer,  'nor  would  I 
say  a  word  concerning  your  honour's  lieutenant  for 
joining  any  honest  fellows,  however  inferior  their  rank, 
in  the  wrestling-ring  or  at  a  bout  of  quarter-staff.  But 
if  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  has  a  fondness  for  martial  tales 
of  former  days,  methinks  he  had  better  learn  them  from 
the  ancient  soldiers  who  have  followed  Edward  the  First 
—  whom  God  assoilzie !  —  and  who  have  known  before 
his  time  the  barons'  wars  and  other  onslaughts,  in  which 
the  knights  and  archers  of  Merry  England  transmitted 
so  many  gallant  actions  to  be  recorded  by  fame;  this 
truly,  I  say,  were  more  beseeming  the  Earl  of  Pem- 
broke's nephew  than  to  see  him  closet  himself  day  after 
day  with  a  strolling  minstrel,  who  gains  his  livelihood 
by  reciting  nonsense  and  lies  to  such  young  men  as  are 

114 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

fond  enough  to  believe  him,  of  whom  hardly  any  one 
knows  whether  he  be  English  or  Scottish  in  his  opinions, 
and  still  less  can  any  one  pretend  to  say  whether  he  is  of 
English  or  Scottish  birth,  or  with  what  purpose  he  Ues 
lounging  about  this  castle,  and  is  left  free  to  communi- 
cate everything  which  passes  within  it  to  those  old 
mutterers  of  matins  at  St.  Bride's,  who  say  with  their 
tongues  "  God  save  King  Edward,"  but  pray  in  their 
hearts  "  God  save  King  Robert  the  Bruce."  Such  a 
communication  he  can  easily  carry  on  by  means  of  his 
son,  who  lies  at  St.  Bride's  cell,  as  your  worship  knows, 
under  pretence  of  illness.' 

'How  do  you  say?'  exclaimed  the  governor  —  'under 
pretence?  Is  he  not  then  really  indisposed?' 

'Nay,  he  may  be  sick  to  the  death  for  aught  I  know,' 
said  the  archer;  'but  if  so,  were  it  not  then  more  natural 
that  the  father  should  attend  his  son's  sick-bed  than 
that  he  should  be  ranging  about  this  castle,  where  one 
eternally  meets  him  in  the  old  baron's  study,  or  in  some 
corner,  where  you  least  expect  to  find  him?' 

'If  he  has  no  lawful  object,'  replied  the  knight,  'it 
might  be  as  you  say;  but  he  is  said  to  be  in  quest  of 
ancient  poems  or  prophecies  of  Merlin,  of  the  Rhymer, 
or  some  other  old  bard;  and  in  truth  it  is  natural  for  him 
to  wish  to  enlarge  his  stock  of  knowledge  and  power  of 
giving  amusement,  and  where  should  he  find  the  means 
save  in  a  study  filled  with  ancient  books? ' 

'No  doubt,'  repHed  the  archer,  with  a  sort  of  dry, 
civil  sneer  of  incredulity;  'I  have  seldom  known  an 
insurrection  in  Scotland  but  that  it  was  prophesied  by 
some  old  forgotten  rhyme,  conjured  out  of  dust  and 
cobwebs,  for  the  sake  of  giving  courage  to  those  North 

"5 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

Country  rebels  who  durst  not  otherwise  have  abidden 
the  whistling  of  the  grey-goose  shaft;  but  curled  heads 
are  hasty,  and,  with  license,  even  your  own  train,  sir 
knight,  retains  too  much  of  the  fire  of  youth  for  such 
uncertain  times  as  the  present.' 

'Thou  hast  convinced  me,  Gilbert  Greenleaf,  and  I 
will  look  into  this  man's  business  and  occupation  more 
closely  than  hitherto.  This  is  no  time  to  peril  the  safety 
of  a  royal  castle  for  the  sake  of  affecting  generosity 
towards  a  man  of  whom  we  know  so  Httle,  and  to  whom, 
till  we  receive  a  very  full  explanation,  we  may,  without 
doing  him  injustice,  attach  grave  suspicions.  Is  he  now 
in  the  apartment  called  the  baron's  study? ' 

'Your  worship  will  be  certain  to  find  him  there/ 
replied  Greenleaf. 

'Then  follow  me,  with  two  or  three  of  thy  comrades, 
and  keep  out  of  sight,  but  within  hearing:  it  may  be 
necessary  to  arrest  this  man.' 

'My  assistance,'  said  the  old  archer,  'shall  be  at  hand 
when  you  call,  but  — ' 

'But  what?'  said  the  knight;  'I  hope  I  am  not  to  find 
doubts  and  disobedience  on  all  hands?' 

'Certainly  not  on  mine,'  replied  Greenleaf;  'I  would 
only  remind  your  worship  that  what  I  have  said  was  a 
sincere  opinion  expressed  in  answer  to  your  worship's 
question,  and  that,  as  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  has  avowed 
himself  the  patron  of  this  man,  I  would  not  willingly  be 
left  to  the  hazard  of  his  revenge.' 

'Pshaw!'  answered  De  Walton,  'is  Aymer  de  Valence 
governor  of  this  castle  or  am  I?  or  to  whom  do  you 
imagine  you  are  responsible  for  answering  such  questions 
as  I  may  put  to  you? ' 

ii6 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'Nay,'  replied  the  archer,  secretly  not  displeased  at 
seeing  De  Walton  show  some  little  jealousy  of  his  own 
authority,  '  believe  me,  sir  knight,  that  I  know  my  own 
station  and  your  worship's,  and  that  I  am  not  now 
to  be  told  to  whom  I  owe  obedience.' 

'To  the  study  then,  and  let  us  find  the  man,'  said  the 
governor. 

*  A  fine  matter  indeed,'  subjoined  Greenleaf ,  following 
him, '  that  your  worship  should  have  to  go  in  person  to 
look  after  the  arrest  of  so  mean  an  individual.  But  your 
honour  is  right:  these  minstrels  are  often  jugglers,  and 
possess  the  power  of  making  their  escape  by  means 
which  borrel  folk  like  myself  are  disposed  to  attribute 
to  necromancy.' 

Without  attending  to  these  last  words.  Sir  John  de 
Walton  set  forth  towards  the  study,  walking  at  a  quick 
pace,  as  if  this  conversation  had  augmented  his  desire 
to  find  himself  in  possession  of  the  person  of  the  sus- 
pected minstrel. 

Traversing  the  ancient  passages  of  the  castle,  the 
governor  had  no  difl&culty  in  reaching  the  study,  which 
was  strongly  vaulted  with  stone,  and  furnished  with  a 
sort  of  iron  cabinet,  intended  for  the  preservation  of 
articles  and  papers  of  value,  in  case  of  fire.  Here  he 
found  the  minstrel  seated  at  a  small  table,  sustaining 
before  him  a  manuscript,  apparently  of  great  antiquity, 
from  which  he  seemed  engaged  in  making  extracts.  The 
windows  of  the  room  were  very  small,  and  still  showed 
some  traces  that  they  had  originally  been  glazed  with  a 
painted  history  of  St.  Bride  —  another  mark  of  the 
devotion  of  the  great  family  of  Douglas  to  their  tutelar 
saint. 

117 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

The  minstrel,  who  had  seemed  deeply  wrapt  in  the 
contemplation  of  his  task,  on  being  disturbed  by  the 
unlooked-for  entrance  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  rose  with 
every  mark  of  respect  and  humility,  and,  remaining 
standing  in  the  governor's  presence,  appeared  to  wait  for 
his  interrogations,  as  if  he  had  anticipated  that  the  visit 
concerned  himself  particularly. 

*I  am  to  suppose,  sir  minstrel,'  said  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  'that  you  have  been  successful  in  your  search, 
and  have  found  the  roll  of  poetry  or  prophecies  that  you 
proposed  to  seek  after  amongst  these  broken  shelves 
and  tattered  volumes? ' 

'More  successful  than  I  could  have  expected,'  replied 
the  minstrel,  'considering  the  effects  of  the  conflagra- 
tion. This,  sir  knight,  is  apparently  the  fatal  volume 
for  which  I  sought,  and  strange  it  is,  considering  the 
heavy  chance  of  other  books  contained  in  this  library, 
that  I  have  been  able  to  find  a  few,  though  imperfect, 
fragments  of  it.' 

'  Since,  therefore,  you  have  been  permitted  to  indulge 
your  curiosity,'  said  the  governor,  'I  trust,  minstrel, 
you  will  have  no  objection  to  satisfy  mine? ' 

The  minstrel  replied  with  the  same  humility,  'that,  if 
there  was  anything  within  the  poor  compass  of  his  skill 
which  could  gratify  Sir  John  de  Walton  in  any  degree, 
he  would  but  reach  his  lute  and  presently  obey  his 
commands.' 

'You  mistake,  sir,'  said  Sir  John,  somewhat  harshly. 
*I  am  none  of  those  who  have  hours  to  spend  in  Ustening 
to  tales  or  music  of  former  days:  my  life  has  hardly 
given  me  time  enough  for  learning  the  duties  of  my  pro- 
fession, far  less  has  it  allowed  me  leisure  for  such  twang- 

ii8 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

ling  follies.  I  care  not  who  knows  it,  but  my  ear  is  so 
incapable  of  judging  of  your  art,  which  you  doubtless 
think  a  noble  one,  that  I  can  scarcely  tell  the  modula- 
tion of  one  tune  from  another.' 

'In  that  case,'  replied  the  minstrel,  composedly,  *I 
can  hardly  promise  myself  the  pleasure  of  affording 
your  worship  the  amusement  which  I  might  otherwise 
have  done.' 

'Nor  do  I  look  for  any  at  your  hand,'  said  the  gover- 
nor, advancing  a  step  nearer  to  him,  and  speaking  in  a 
sterner  tone.  'I  want  information,  sir,  which  I  am 
assured  you  can  give  me,  if  you  incline ;  and  it  is  my  duty 
to  tell  you  that,  if  you  show  unwillingness  to  speak  the 
truth,  I  know  means  by  which  it  will  become  my  painful 
duty  to  extort  it  in  a  more  disagreeable  manner  than  I 
would  wish.' 

*If  your  questions,  sir  knight,'  answered  Bertram, 
*be  such  as  I  can  or  ought  to  answer,  there  shall  be  no 
occasion  to  put  them  more  than  once.  If  they  are  such 
as  I  cannot  or  ought  not  to  reply  to,  believe  me  that  no 
threats  of  violence  will  extort  an  answer  from  me.' 

'You  speak  boldly,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton;  'but 
take  my  word  for  it,  that  your  courage  will  be  put  to 
the  test.  I  am  as  little  fond  of  proceeding  to  such  extrem- 
ities as  you  can  be  of  undergoing  them,  but  such  will  be 
the  natural  consequence  of  your  own  obstinacy.  I 
therefore  ask  you,  whether  Bertram  be  your  real  name; 
whether  you  have  any  other  profession  than  that  of  a 
travelling  minstrel;  and,  lastly,  whether  you  have  any 
acquaintance  or  connexion  mth  any  Englishman  or 
Scottishman  beyond  the  walls  of  this  Castle  of  Douglas?' 

'To  these  questions,'  replied  the  minstrel,  'I  have 

119 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

already  answered  the  worshipful  knight,  Sir  Aymer  de 
Valence,  and,  having  fully  satisfied  him,  it  is  not,  I  con- 
ceive, necessary  that  I  should  undergo  a  second  exami- 
nation; nor  is  it  consistent  either  with  your  worship's 
honour  or  that  of  the  lieutenant-governor  that  such  a 
re-examination  should  take  place.' 

'You  are  very  considerate,'  replied  the  governor,  *of 
my  honour  and  of  that  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence.  Take 
my  word  for  it,  they  are  both  in  perfect  safety  in  our 
own  keeping,  and  may  dispense  with  your  attention. 
I  ask  you,  will  you  answer  the  inquiries  which  it  is  my 
duty  to  make,  or  am  I  to  enforce  obedience  by  putting 
you  under  the  penalties  of  the  question?  I  have  already, 
it  is  my  duty  to  say,  seen  the  answers  you  have  returned 
to  my  lieutenant,  and  they  do  not  satisfy  me.' 

He  at  the  same  time  clapped  his  hands,  and  two  or 
three  archers  showed  themselves,  stripped  of  their  tunics 
and  only  attired  in  their  shirts  and  hose. 

*I  understand,'  said  the  minstrel,  'that  you  intend  to 
inflict  upon  me  a  punishment  which  is  foreign  to  the 
genius  of  the  English  laws,  in  that  no  proof  is  adduced  of 
my  guilt.  I  have  already  told  that  I  am  by  birth  an 
Englishman,  by  profession  a  minstrel,  and  that  I  am 
totally  unconnected  with  any  person  likely  to  nourish 
any  design  against  this  Castle  of  Douglas,  Sir  John  de 
Walton,  or  his  garrison.  What  answers  you  may  extort 
from  me  by  bodily  agony,  I  cannot,  to  speak  as  a  plain- 
dealing  Christian,  hold  myself  responsible  for.  I  think 
that  I  can  endure  as  much  pain  as  any  one;  I  am  sure 
that  I  never  yet  felt  a  degree  of  agony  that  I  would  not 
willingly  prefer  to  breaking  my  plighted  word,  or  be- 
coming a  false  informer  against  innocent  persons;  but  I 

1 20 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

own  I  do  not  know  the  extent  to  which  the  art  of  torture 
may  be  carried;  and  though  I  do  not  fear  you,  Sir  John 
de  Walton,  yet  I  must  acknowledge  that  I  fear  myself, 
since  I  know  not  to  what  extremity  your  cruelty  may 
be  capable  of  subjecting  me,  or  how  far  I  may  be  enabled 
to  bear  it.  I,  therefore,  in  the  first  place,  protest,  that  I 
shall  in  no  manner  be  liable  for  any  words  which  I  may 
utter  in  the  course  of  any  examination  enforced  from  me 
by  torture;  and  you  must  therefore,  under  such  circum- 
stances, proceed  to  the  execution  of  an  office  which, 
permit  me  to  say,  is  hardly  that  which  I  expected  to 
have  found  thus  administered  by  an  accompUshed  knight 
like  yourself.' 

'Hark  you,  sir,' replied  the  governor,  'you  and  I  are  at 
issue,  and  in  doing  my  duty  I  ought  instantly  to  proceed 
to  the  extremities  I  have  threatened;  but  perhaps  you 
yourself  feel  less  reluctance  to  undergo  the  examination 
as  proposed  than  I  shall  do  in  commanding  it;  I  will 
therefore  consign  you  for  the  present  to  a  place  of  con- 
finement suitable  to  one  who  is  suspected  of  being  a  spy 
upon  this  fortress.  Until  you  are  pleased  to  remove  such 
suspicions,  your  lodgings  and  nourishment  are  those  of 
a  prisoner.  In  the  meantime,  before  subjecting  you  to 
the  question,  take  notice,  I  will  myself  ride  to  the  abbey 
of  St.  Bride,  and  satisfy  myself  whether  the  young 
person  whom  you  would  pass  as  your  son  is  possessed  of 
the  same  determination  as  that  which  you  yourself  seem 
to  assert.  It  may  so  happen  that  his  examination  and 
yours  may  throw  such  light  upon  each  other  as  will 
decidedly  prove  either  your  guilt  or  innocence,  without 
its  being  confirmed  by  the  use  of  the  extraordinary 
question.  If  it  be  otherwise,  tremble  for  your  son's  sake, 

121 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

if  not  for  your  own.  Have  I  shaken  you,  sir;  or  do 
you  fear  for  your  boy's  young  sinews  and  joints  the 
engines  which,  in  your  own  case,  you  seem  willing  to 
defy?' 

'Sir,'  answered  the  minstrel,  recovering  from  the 
momentary  emotion  he  had  shown,  '  I  leave  it  to  your- 
self, as  a  man  of  honour  and  candour,  whether  you 
ought,  in  common  fairness,  to  form  a  worse  opinion  of 
any  man  because  he  is  not  unwilling  to  incur  in  his  own 
person  severities  which  he  would  not  desire  to  be  inflicted 
upon  his  child,  a  sickly  youth,  just  recovering  from  a 
dangerous  disease.' 

'It  is  my  duty,'  answered  De  Walton,  after  a  short 
pause,  '  to  leave  no  stone  unturned  by  which  this  busi- 
ness may  be  traced  to  the  source ;  and  if  thou  desirest 
mercy  for  thy  son,  thou  wilt  thyself  most  easily  attain 
it  by  setting  him  the  example  of  honesty  and  plain- 
dealing.' 

The  minstrel  threw  himself  back  on  the  seat,  as  if 
fully  resolved  to  bear  every  extremity  that  could  be 
inflicted,  rather  than  make  any  further  answer  than  he 
had  already  offered.  Sir  John  de  Walton  himself  seemed 
in  some  degree  uncertain  what  might  now  be  his  best 
course.  He  felt  an  invincible  repugnance  to  proceed, 
without  due  consideration,  in  what  most  people  would 
have  deemed  the  direct  line  of  his  duty,  by  inflicting 
the  torture  both  upon  father  and  son;  but  deep  as  was 
his  sense  of  devotion  towards  the  King,  and  numerous 
as  were  the  hopes  and  expectations  he  had  formed  upon 
the  strict  discharge  of  his  present  high  trust,  he  could  not 
resolve  upon  having  recourse  at  once  to  this  cruel 
method  of  cutting  the  knot.  Bertram's  appearance  was 

122 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

venerable,  and  his  power  of  words  not  unworthy  of  his 
aspect  and  bearing.  The  governor  remembered  that 
Aymer  de  Valence,  whose  judgment  in  general  it  was 
impossible  to  deny,  had  described  him  as  one  of  those 
rare  individuals  who  vindicated  the  honour  of  a  cor- 
rupted profession  by  their  personal  good  behaviour;  and 
he  acknowledged  to  himself  that  there  was  gross  cruelty 
and  injustice  in  refusing  to  admit  the  prisoner  to  the 
credit  of  being  a  true  and  honest  man  until,  by  way  of 
proving  his  rectitude,  he  had  strained  every  sinew  and 
crushed  every  joint  in  his  body,  as  well  as  those  of  his 
son.  'I  have  no  touchstone,'  he  said  internally,  'which 
can  distinguish  truth  from  falsehood.  The  Bruce  and 
his  followers  are  on  the  alert :  he  has  certainly  equipped 
the  galleys  which  lay  at  Rachrin  during  winter.  This 
story,  too,  of  Greenleaf,  about  arms  being  procured  for 
a  new  insurrection,  tallies  strangely  with  the  appearance 
of  that  savage-looking  forester  at  the  hunt;  and  all  tends 
to  show  that  something  is  upon  the  anvil  which  it  is  my 
duty  to  provide  against.  I  will,  therefore,  pass  over  no 
circumstance  by  which  I  can  affect  the  mind  through 
hope  or  fear;  but,  please  God  to  give  me  light  from  any 
other  source,  I  will  not  think  it  lawful  to  torment  these 
unfortunate,  and,  it  may  yet  be,  honest  men.'  He 
accordingly  took  his  departure  from  the  library,  whis- 
pering a  word  to  Greenleaf  respecting  the  prisoner. 

He  had  reached  the  outward  door  of  the  study,  and 
his  satellites  had  already  taken  the  minstrel  into  their 
grasp,  when  the  voice  of  the  old  man  was  heard  calhng 
upon  De  Walton  to  return  for  a  single  moment. 

'What  hast  thou  to  say,  sir?'  said  the  governor.  'Be 
speedy,  for  I  have  already  lost  more  time  in  listening  to 

123 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

thee  than  I  am  answerable  for,  and  so  I  advise  thee  for 
thine  own  sake  — ' 

'1  advise  thee,'  said  the  minstrel,  'for  thine  own  sake, 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  to  beware  how  thou  dost  insist  on 
thy  present  purpose,  by  which  thou  thyself  alone,  of  all 
men  Uving,  will  most  severely  suffer.  If  thou  harmest  a 
hair  of  that  young  man's  head  —  nay,  if  thou  permittest 
him  to  undergo  any  privation  which  it  is  in  thy  power  to 
prevent  —  thou  wilt,  in  doing  so,  prepare  for  thine  own 
suffering  a  degree  of  agony  more  acute  than  anything 
else  in  this  mortal  world  could  cause  thee.  I  swear  by 
the  most  blessed  objects  of  our  holy  religion,  I  call  to 
witness  that  holy  sepulchre,  of  which  I  have  been  an 
imworthy  visitor,  that  I  speak  nothing  but  the  truth, 
and  that  thou  wilt  one  day  testify  thy  gratitude  for  the 
part  I  am  now  acting.  It  is  my  interest,  as  well  as  yours, 
to  secure  you  in  the  safe  possession  of  this  castle,  al- 
though assuredly  I  know  some  things  respecting  it,  and 
respecting  your  worship,  which  I  am  not  at  liberty  to 
tell  without  the  consent  of  that  youth.  Bring  me  but  a 
note  under  his  hand,  consenting  to  my  taking  you  into 
our  mystery,  and  believe  me,  you  will  soon  see  those 
clouds  charmed  away;  since  there  was  never  a  doleful 
uncertainty  which  more  speedily  changed  to  joy,  or  a 
thunder-cloud  of  adversity  which  more  instantly  gave 
way  to  sunshine,  than  would  then  the  suspicions  which 
appear  now  so  formidable.' 

He  spoke  with  so  much  earnestness  as  to  make  some 
impression  upon  Sir  John  de  Walton,  who  was  once  more 
wholly  at  a  loss  to  know  what  line  his  duty  called  upon 
him  to  pursue. 

*I  would  most  gladly,'  said  the  governor,  'follow  out 

124 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

my  purpose  by  the  gentlest  means  in  my  power,  and  I 
shall  bring  no  further  distress  upon  this  poor  lad  than 
thine  own  obstinacy  and  his  shall  appear  to  deserve.  In 
the  meantime,  think,  sir  minstrel,  that  my  duty  has 
limits,  and  if  I  slack  it  for  a  day,  it  will  become  thee  to 
exert  every  effort  in  thy  power  to  meet  my  condescen- 
sion. I  will  give  thee  leave  to  address  thy  son  by  a  line 
under  thy  hand,  and  I  will  await  his  answer  before  I 
proceed  further  in  this  matter,  which  seems  to  be  very 
mysterious.  Meantime,  if  thou  hast  a  soul  to  be  saved, 
I  conjure  thee  to  speak  the  truth,  and  tell  me  whether 
the  secrets  of  which  thou  seemest  to  be  a  too  faithful 
treasurer  have  regard  to  the  practices  of  Douglas,  of 
Bruce,  or  of  any  in  their  names,  against  this  Castle  of 
Douglas.' 

The  prisoner  thought  a  moment,  and  then  replied  — 
*I  am  aware,  sir  knight,  of  the  severe  charge  under  which 
this  command  is  entrusted  to  your  hands,  and  were  it  in 
my  power  to  assist  you,  as  a  faithful  minstrel  and  loyal 
subject,  either  with  hand  or  tongue,  I  should  feel  my- 
self called  upon  so  to  do;  but  so  far  am  I  from  being 
the  character  your  suspicions  have  apprehended,  that  I 
should  have  held  it  for  certain  that  the  Bruce  and 
Douglas  had  assembled  their  followers,  for  the  purpose 
of  renouncing  their  rebeUious  attempts,  and  taking  their 
departure  for  the  Holy  Land,  but  for  the  apparition  of 
the  forester  who,  I  hear,  bearded  you  at  the  hunting, 
which  impresses  upon  me  the  belief  that,  when  so  reso- 
lute a  follower  and  henchman  of  the  Douglas  was  sitting 
fearless  among  you,  his  master  and  comrades  could  be 
at  no  great  distance.  How  far  his  intentions  could  be 
friendly  to  you,  I  must  leave  it  to  yourself  to  judge; 

125 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

only  believe  me  thus  far,  that  the  rack,  pulley,  or  pincers 
would  not  have  compelled  me  to  act  the  informer,  or 
adviser,  in  a  quarrel  wherein  I  have  little  or  no  share, 
if  I  had  not  been  desirous  of  fixing  the  belief  upon  you 
that  you  are  dealing  with  a  true  man,  and  one  who  has 
your  welfare  at  heart.  Meanwhile,  permit  me  to  have 
writing-materials,  or  let  my  own  be  restored,  for  I  possess, 
in  some  degree,  the  higher  arts  of  my  calling;  nor  do  I 
fear  but  that  I  can  procure  for  you  an  explanation  of 
these  marvels,  without  much  more  loss  of  time.' 

'God  grant  it  prove  so,'  said  the  governor;  'though  I 
see  not  well  how  I  can  hope  for  so  favourable  a  termina- 
tion, and  I  may  sustain  great  harm  by  trusting  too  much 
on  the  present  occasion.  My  duty,  however,  requires 
that,  in  the  meantime,  you  be  removed  into  strict  con- 
finement.' 

He  handed  to  the  prisoner  as  he  spoke  the  writing- 
materials  which  had  been  seized  upon  by  the  archers 
on  their  first  entrance,  and  then  commanded  those 
satellites  to  unhand  the  minstrel. 

'I  must,  then,'  said  Bertram,  'remain  subjected  to  all 
the  severities  of  a  strict  captivity?  But  I  deprecate  no 
hardship  whatever  in  my  own  person,  so  I  may  secure 
you  from  acting  with  a  degree  of  rashness  of  which  you 
will  all  your  life  repent,  without  the  means  of  atoning.' 

'No  more  words,  minstrel,'  said  the  governor;  'but 
since  I  have  made  my  choice,  perhaps  a  very  dangerous 
one  for  myself,  let  us  carry  this  spell  into  execution, 
which  thou  sayest  is  to  serve  me,  as  mariners  say  that 
oil  spread  upon  the  raging  billows  will  assuage  their 
fury.' 


CHAPTER  IX 

Beware!  bewarel  of  the  Black  Friar. 

He  still  retains  his  sway. 
For  he  is  yet  the  church's  heir, 

Whoever  may  be  the  lay. 
Amundeville  is  lord  by  day, 

But  the  monk  is  lord  by  night, 
Nor  wine  nor  wassel  could  raise  a  vassal 

To  question  that  friar's  right. 

Don  Juan,  Canto  xvi. 

The  minstrel  made  no  vain  boast  of  the  skill  which  he 
possessed  in  the  use  of  pen  and  ink.  In  fact,  no  priest  of 
the  time  could  have  produced  his  little  scroll  more 
speedily,  more  neatly  composed,  or  more  fairly  written, 
than  were  the  Hnes  addressed  *To  the  youth  called 
Augustine,  son  of  Bertram  the  Minstrel.' 

*  I  have  not  folded  this  letter,'  said  he,  'nor  tied  it  with 
silk,  for  it  is  not  expressed  so  as  to  explain  the  mystery 
to  you ;  nor,  to  speak  frankly,  do  I  think  that  it  can  con- 
vey to  you  any  intelligence;  but  it  may  be  satisfactory 
to  show  you  what  the  letter  does  not  contain,  and  that 
it  is  written  from  and  to  a  person  who  both  mean  kindly 
towards  you  and  your  garrison.' 

'That,'  said  the  governor,  'is  a  deception  which  is 
easily  practised ;  it  tends,  however,  to  show,  though  not 
with  certainty,  that  you  are  disposed  to  act  upon  good 
faith ;  and  until  the  contrary  appear,  I  shall  consider  it 
a  point  of  duty  to  treat  you  with  as  much  gentleness  as 
the  matter  admits  of.  Meantime,  I  will  myself  ride  to 
the  abbey  of  St.  Bride,  and  in  person  examine  the  young 
prisoner;  and  as  you  say  he  has  the  power,  so  I  pray  to 

127 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Heaven  he  may  have  the  will,  to  read  this  riddle,  which 
seems  to  throw  us  all  into  confusion.'  So  saying,  he 
ordered  his  horse,  and  while  it  was  getting  ready,  he 
perused  with  great  composure  the  minstrel's  letter.  Its 
contents  ran  thus:  — 

Dear  Augustine  — 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  the  governor  of  this  castle,  has 
conceived  those  suspicions  which  I  pointed  out  as  likely 
to  be  the  consequence  of  our  coming  to  this  country  with- 
out an  avowed  errand.  I  at  least  am  seized,  and  threat- 
ened with  examination  under  torture,  to  force  me  to  tell 
the  purpose  of  our  journey ;  but  they  shall  tear  my  flesh 
from  my  bones  ere  they  force  me  to  break  the  oath 
which  I  have  taken.  And  the  purport  of  this  letter  is  to 
apprise  you  of  the  danger  in  which  you  stand  of  being 
placed  in  similar  circumstances,  unless  you  are  disposed 
to  authorise  me  to  make  the  discovery  to  this  knight; 
but  on  this  subject  you  have  only  to  express  your  own 
wishes,  being  assured  they  shall  be  in  every  respect 
attended  to  by  your  devoted  Bertram. 

This  letter  did  not  throw  the  smallest  light  upon  the 
mystery  of  the  writer.  The  governor  read  it  more  than 
once,  and  turned  it  repeatedly  in  his  hand,  as  if  he  had 
hoped  by  that  mechanical  process  to  draw  something 
from  the  missive  which  at  a  first  view  the  words  did  not 
express;  but  as  no  result  of  this  sort  appeared,  De 
Walton  retired  to  the  hall,  where  he  informed  Sir  Aymer 
de  Valence  that  he  was  going  abroad  as  far  as  the  abbey 
of  St.  Bride,  and  that  he  would  be  obliged  by  his  taking 
upon  him  the  duties  of  governor  during  his  absence.     Sir 

128 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Aymer,  of  course,  intimated  his  acquiescence  in  the 
charge ;  and  the  state  of  disunion  in  which  they  stood  to 
each  other  permitted  no  further  explanation. 

Upon  the  arrival  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  at  the  dilapi- 
dated shrine,  the  abbot,  with  trembling  haste,  made  it 
his  business  immediately  to  attend  the  commander  of 
the  English  garrison,  upon  whom,  for  the  present,  their 
house  depended  for  every  indulgence  they  experienced, 
as  well  as  for  the  subsistence  and  protection  necessary 
to  them  in  so  perilous  a  period.  Having  interrogated 
this  old  man  respecting  the  youth  residing  in  the  abbey, 
De  Walton  was  informed  that  he  had  been  indisposed 
since  left  there  by  his  father,  Bertram,  a  minstrel.  It 
appeared  to  the  abbot  that  his  indisposition  might  be 
of  that  contagious  kind  which,  at  that  period,  ravaged 
the  English  Borders,  and  made  some  incursions  into 
Scotland,  where  it  afterwards  worked  a  fearful  progress. 
After  some  further  conversation,  Sir  John  de  Walton 
put  into  the  abbot's  hand  the  letter  to  the  young  per- 
son under  his  roof;  on  delivering  which  to  Augustine, 
the  reverend  father  was  charged  with  a  message  to  the 
English  governor  so  bold  that  he  was  afraid  to  be  the 
bearer  of  it.  It  signified  that  the  youth  could  not,  and 
would  not,  at  that  moment  receive  the  English  knight; 
but  that,  if  he  came  back  on  the  morrow  after  mass,  it 
was  probable  he  might  learn  something  of  what  was 
requested. 

'This  is  not  an  answer,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  *to 
be  sent  by  a  boy  like  this  to  a  person  in  my  charge;  and 
methinks,  father  abbot,  you  consult  your  own  safety 
but  slenderly  in  delivering  such  an  insolent  message.' 

The  abbot  trembled  under  the  folds  of  his  large  coarse 
46  129 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

habit;  and  De  Walton,  imagining  that  his  discomposure 
was  the  consequence  of  guilty  fear,  called  upon  him  to 
remember  the  duties  which  he  owed  to  England,  the 
benefits  which  he  had  received  from  himself,  and  the 
probable  consequence  of  taking  part  in  a  pert  boy's 
insolent  defiance  of  the  power  of  the  governor  of  the 
province. 

The  abbot  vindicated  himself  from  these  charges  with 
the  utmost  anxiety.  He  pledged  his  sacred  word  that 
the  inconsiderate  character  of  the  boy's  message  was 
owing  to  the  waywardness  arising  from  indisposition. 
He  reminded  the  governor  that,  as  a  Christian  and  an 
Englishman,  he  had  duties  to  observe  towards  the  com- 
munity of  St.  Bride,  which  had  never  given  the  English 
government  the  least  subject  of  complaint.  As  he  spoke, 
the  churchman  seemed  to  gather  courage  from  the  im- 
munities of  his  order.  He  said  he  could  not  permit  a 
sick  boy,  who  had  taken  refuge  within  the  sanctuary 
of  the  church,  to  be  seized  or  subjected  to  any  species  of 
force,  unless  he  was  accused  of  a  specific  crime,  capable 
of  being  immediately  proved.  The  Douglasses,  a  head- 
strong race,  had,  in  former  days,  uniformly  respected 
the  sanctuary  of  St.  Bride,  and  it  was  not  to  be  supposed 
that  the  King  of  England,  the  dutiful  and  obedient  child 
of  the  Church  of  Rome,  would  act  with  less  veneration 
for  her  rights  than  the  followers  of  a  usurper,  homicide, 
and  excommunicated  person  like  Robert  Bruce. 

Walton  was  considerably  shaken  with  this  remon- 
strance. He  knew  that,  in  the  circumstances  of  the  times, 
the  Pope  had  great  power  in  every  controversy  in  which 
it  was  his  pleasure  to  interfere.  He  knew  that,  even  in 
the  dispute  respecting  the  supremacy  of  Scotland,  his 

130 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Holiness  had  set  up  a  claim  to  the  kingdom  which,  in 
the  temper  of  the  times,  might  perhaps  have  been  deemed 
superior  both  to  that  of  Robert  Bruce  and  that  of 
Edward  of  England,  and  he  conceived  his  monarch 
would  give  him  little  thanks  for  any  fresh  embroilment 
which  might  take  place  with  the  church.  Moreover,  it 
was  easy  to  place  a  watch,  so  as  to  prevent  Augustine 
from  escaping  during  the  night;  and  on  the  following 
morning  he  would  be  still  as  effectually  in  the  power  of 
the  English  governor  as  if  he  were  seized  on  by  open 
force  at  the  present  moment.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  how- 
ever, so  far  exerted  his  authority  over  the  abbot,  that 
he  engaged,  in  consideration  of  the  sanctuary  being 
respected  for  this  space  of  time,  that,  when  it  expired, 
he  would  be  aiding  and  assisting  with  his  spiritual  author- 
ity to  surrender  the  youth,  should  he  not  allege  a  suffi- 
cient reason  to  the  contrary.  This  arrangement,  which 
appeared  still  to  flatter  the  governor  with  the  prospect 
of  an  easy  termination  of  this  troublesome  dispute, 
induced  him  to  grant  the  delay  which  Augustine  rather 
demanded  than  petitioned  for. 

'At  your  request,  father  abbot,  whom  I  have  hitherto 
found  a  true  man,  I  will  indulge  this  youth  with  the 
grace  he  asks  before  taking  him  into  custody,  under- 
standing that  he  shall  not  be  permitted  to  leave  this 
place ;  and  thou  art  to  be  responsible  to  this  effect,  giving 
thee,  as  is  reasonable,  power  to  command  our  little 
garrison  at  Hazelside,  to  which  I  will  send  a  reinforce- 
ment on  my  return  to  the  castle,  in  case  it  should  be 
necessary  to  use  the  strong  hand,  or  circumstances 
impose  upon  me  other  measures.' 

'Worthy  sir  knight,'  replied  the  abbot,  'I  have  no 

131 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

idea  that  the  frowardness  of  this  youth  will  render  any 
course  necessary  saving  that  of  persuasion;  and  I  ven- 
ture to  say  that  you  yourself  will  in  the  highest  degree 
approve  of  the  method  in  which  I  shall  acquit  myself 
of  my  present  trust.' 

The  abbot  went  through  the  duties  of  hospitality, 
enumerating  what  simple  cheer  the  cloister  of  the  con- 
vent permitted  him  to  offer  to  the  EngHsh  knight.  Sir 
John  de  Walton  decHned  the  offer  of  refreshment,  how- 
ever, took  a  courteous  leave  of  the  churchman,  and  did 
not  spare  his  horse  until  the  noble  animal  had  brought 
him  again  before  the  Castle  of  Douglas. 

Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  met  him  on  the  drawbridge, 
and  reported  the  state  of  the  garrison  to  be  the  same  in 
which  he  had  left  it,  excepting  that  intimation  had  been 
received  that  twelve  or  fifteen  men  were  expected  on 
their  way  to  the  town  of  Lanark;  and  being  on  march 
from  the  neighbourhood  of  Ayr,  would  that  night  take 
up  their  quarters  at  the  outpost  of  Hazelside. 

*I  am  glad  of  it,'  replied  the  governor:  'I  was  about 
to  strengthen  that  detachment.  This  stripling,  the  son 
of  Bertram  the  minstrel,  or  whoever  he  is,  has  engaged 
to  deliver  himself  up  for  examination  in  the  morning. 
As  this  party  of  soldiers  are  followers  of  your  uncle, 
Lord  Pembroke,  may  I  request  you  will  ride  to  meet 
them,  and  command  them  to  remain  at  Hazelside  until 
you  make  further  inquiries  about  this  youth,  who  has 
still  to  clear  up  the  mystery  which  hangs  about  him,  and 
reply  to  a  letter  which  I  delivered  with  my  own  hand  to 
the  abbot  of  St.  Bride.  I  have  shown  too  much  forbear- 
ance in  this  matter,  and  I  trust  to  your  looking  to  the 
security  of  this  young  man,  and  convey  him  hither,  with 

132 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

all  due  care  and  attention,  as  being  a  prisoner  of  some 
importance.' 

'Certainly,  Sir  John,'  answered  Sir  Aymer;  'your 
orders  shall  be  obeyed,  since  you  have  none  of  greater 
importance  for  one  who  hath  the  honour  to  be  second 
only  to  yourself  in  this  place.' 

'I  crave  your  mercy,  Sir  Aymer,'  returned  the  gov- 
ernor, '  if  the  commission  be  in  any  degree  beneath  your 
dignity;  but  it  is  our  misfortune  to  misunderstand  each 
other,  when  we  endeavour  to  be  most  intelUgible.' 

'But  what  am  I  to  do,'  said  Sir  Aymer  —  'no  way 
disputing  your  command,  but  only  asking  for  informa- 
tion —  what  am  I  to  do,  if  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride  offers 
opposition  ? ' 

'How!'  answered  Sir  John  de  Walton;  'with  the  rein- 
forcement from  my  Lord  of  Pembroke,  you  will  com- 
mand at  least  twenty  war-men,  with  bow  and  spear, 
against  five  or  six  timid  old  monks,  with  only  gown  and 
hood.' 

'True,'  said  Sir  Aymer,  'but  ban  and  excommunica- 
tion are  sometimes,  in  the  present  day,  too  hard  for  the 
mail  coat,  and  I  would  not  willingly  be  thrown  out  of  the 
pale  of  the  Christian  church.' 

'Well,  then,  thou  very  suspicious  and  scrupulous 
young  man,'  replied  De  Walton,  'know  that,  if  this 
youth  does  not  deliver  himself  up  to  thee  of  his  own 
accord,  the  abbot  has  promised  to  put  him  into  thy 
hands.' 

There  was  no  further  answer  to  be  made,  and  De 
Valence,  though  still  thinking  himself  unnecessarily 
harassed  with  the  charge  of  a  petty  commission,  took 
the  sort  of  half  arms  which  were  always  used  when  the 

133 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

knights  stirred  beyond  the  walls  of  the  garrison,  and 
proceeded  to  execute  the  commands  of  De  Walton.  A 
horseman  or  two,  together  with  his  squire  Fabian, 
accompanied  him. 

The  evening  closed  in  with  one  of  those  Scottish  mists 
which  are  commonly  said  to  be  equal  to  the  showers  of 
happier  cHmates;  the  path  became  more  and  more  dark, 
the  hills  more  wreathed  in  vapours,  and  more  difficult 
to  traverse ;  and  all  the  little  petty  inconveniences  which 
rendered  travelling  through  the  district  slow  and  uncer- 
tain were  augmented  by  the  density  of  the  fog  which 
overhung  everything. 

Sir  Aymer,  therefore,  occasionally  mended  his  pace, 
and  often  incurred  the  fate  of  one  who  is  over-late, 
delaying  himself  by  his  efforts  to  make  greater  expedi- 
tion. The  knight  bethought  himself  that  he  would  get 
into  a  straight  road  by  passing  through  the  almost 
deserted  town  of  Douglas,  the  inhabitants  of  which  had 
been  treated  so  severely  by  the  English,  in  the  course 
of  those  fierce  troubles,  that  most  of  them  who  were 
capable  of  bearing  arms  had  left  it,  and  withdrawn 
themselves  to  different  parts  of  the  country.  This  almost 
deserted  place  was  defended  by  a  rude  palisade,  and  a 
ruder  drawbridge,  which  gave  entrance  into  streets  so 
narrow  as  to  admit  with  difficulty  three  horses  abreast, 
and  evincing  with  what  strictness  the  ancient  lords  of 
the  village  adhered  to  their  prejudice  against  fortifica- 
tions, and  their  opinion  in  favour  of  keeping  the  field, 
so  quaintly  expressed  in  the  well-known  proverb  of  the 
family  —  *  It  is  better  to  hear  the  lark  sing  than  the 
mouse  cheep.'  The  streets,  or  rather  the  lanes,  were  dark 
but  for  a  shifting  gleam  of  moonlight,  which,  as  that 

134 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

planet  began  to  rise,  was  now  and  then  visible  upon  some 
steep  and  narrow  gable.  No  sound  of  domestic  industry 
or  domestic  festivity  was  heard,  and  no  ray  of  candle  or 
firelight  glanced  from  the  windows  of  the  houses:  the 
ancient  ordinance  called  the  curfew,  which  the  Con- 
queror had  introduced  into  England,  was  at  this  time 
in  full  force  in  such  parts  of  Scotland  as  were  thought 
doubtful,  and  likely  to  rebel,  under  which  description 
it  need  not  be  said  the  ancient  possessions  of  the 
Douglas  were  most  especially  regarded.  The  church, 
whose  Gothic  monuments  were  of  a  magnificent  char- 
acter, had  been,  as  far  as  possible,  destroyed  by  fire; 
but  the  ruins,  held  together  by  the  weight  of  the  massive 
stones  of  which  they  were  composed,  still  sufficiently 
evinced  the  greatness  of  the  family  at  whose  cost  it  had 
been  raised,  and  whose  bones,  from  immemorial  time, 
had  been  entombed  in  its  crypts. 

Paying  little  attention  to  these  relics  of  departed 
splendour.  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  advanced  with  his 
small  detachment,  and  had  passed  the  scattered  frag- 
ments of  the  cemetery  of  the  Douglasses,  when,  to  his 
surprise,  the  noise  of  his  horse's  feet  was  seemingly 
replied  to  by  sounds  which  rung  like  those  of  another 
knightly  steed  advancing  heavily  up  the  street,  as  if  it 
were  to  meet  him.  Valence  was  unable  to  conjecture 
what  might  be  the  cause  of  these  warHke  sounds;  the 
ring  and  the  clang  of  armour  was  distinct,  and  the  heavy 
tramp  of  a  war-horse  was  not  to  be  mistaken  by  the  ear 
of  a  warrior.  The  difficulty  of  keeping  soldiers  from 
straying  out  of  quarters  by  night  would  have  sufficiently 
accounted  for  the  appearance  of  a  straggling  foot- 
soldier;  but  it  was  more  difficult  to  account  for  a 

135 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

mounted  horseman,  in  full  armour;  and  such  was  the 
apparition  which  a  peculiarly  bright  glimpse  of  moon- 
light now  showed  at  the  bottom  of  the  causewayed  hill. 
Perhaps  the  unknown  warrior  obtained  at  the  same  time 
a  glance  of  Aymer  de  Valence  and  his  armed  followers 
—  at  least  each  of  them  shouted,  'Who  goes  there?'  the 
alarm  of  the  times ;  and  on  the  instant  the  deep  answers 
of  *St.  George!'  on  the  one  side,  and  'The  Douglas!'  on 
the  other,  awakened  the  still  echoes  of  the  small  and 
ruinous  street,  and  the  silent  arches  of  the  dilapidated 
church.  Astonished  at  a  war-cry  with  which  so  many 
recollections  were  connected,  the  English  knight  spurred 
his  horse  at  full  gallop  down  the  steep  and  broken 
descent  leading  out  at  the  south  or  south-east  gate  of  the 
town;  and  it  was  the  work  of  an  instant  to  call  out,  *Ho! 
St.  George!  upon  the  insolent  villain,  all  of  you!  To  the 
gate,  Fabian,  and  cut  him  off  from  flight!  St.  George!  I 
say,  for  England!  Bows  and  bills!  bows  and  bills!' 
At  the  same  time  Aymer  de  Valence  laid  in  rest  his  own 
long  lance,  which  he  snatched  from  the  squire  by  whom 
it  was  carried.  But  the  light  was  seen  and  gone  in  an 
instant,  and  though  De  Valence  concluded  that  the 
hostile  warrior  had  hardly  room  to  avoid  his  career,  yet 
he  could  take  no  aim  for  the  encounter,  unless  by  mere 
guess,  and  continued  to  plunge  down  the  dark  declivity, 
among  shattered  stones  and  other  encumbrances,  with- 
out groping  out  with  his  lance  the  object  of  his  pursuit. 
He  rode,  in  short,  at  a  broken  gallop,  a  descent  of  about 
fifty  or  sixty  yards,  without  having  any  reason  to  sup- 
pose that  he  had  met  the  figure  which  had  appeared  to 
him,  although  the  narrowness  of  the  street  scarcely 
admitted  his  having  passed  him,  unless  both  horse  and 

136 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

horseman  could  have  melted  at  the  moment  of  encounter 
like  an  air-bubble.  The  riders  of  his  suite,  meanwhile, 
were  struck  with  a  feeling  like  supernatural  terror,  which 
a  number  of  singular  adventures  had  caused  most  of 
them  to  attach  to  the  name  of  Douglas;  and  when  he 
reached  the  gate  by  which  the  broken  street  was  ter- 
minated, there  was  none  close  behind  him  but  Fabian, 
in  whose  head  no  suggestions  of  a  timorous  nature  could 
outlive  the  sound  of  his  dear  master's  voice. 

Here  there  was  a  post  of  English  archers,  who  were 
turning  out  in  considerable  alarm,  when  De  Valence  and 
his  page  rode  in  amongst  them.  'Villains!'  shouted  De 
Valence,  'why  were  ye  not  upon  your  duty?  Who  was  it 
passed  through  your  post  even  now,  with  the  traitorous 
cry  of  "Douglas"?' 

'We  know  of  no  such,'  said  the  captain  of  the 
watch. 

'That  is  to  say,  you  besotted  villains,'  answered  the 
young  knight,  'you  have  been  drinking,  and  have 
slept? ' 

The  men  protested  the  contrary,  but  in  a  confused 
manner,  which  was  far  from  overcoming  De  Valence's 
suspicions.  He  called  loudly  to  bring  cressets,  torches, 
and  candles;  and  a  few  remaining  inhabitants  began  to 
make  their  unwilling  appearance,  with  such  various 
means  of  giving  light  as  they  chanced  to  possess.  They 
heard  the  story  of  the  young  EngHsh  knight  with  won- 
der; nor,  although  it  was  confirmed  by  all  his  retinue, 
did  they  give  credit  to  the  recital,  more  than  that  the 
EngHshmen  wished  somehow  or  other  to  pick  a  quarrel 
with  the  people  of  the  place,  under  the  pretence  of  their 
having  admitted  a  retainer  of  their  ancient  lord  by  night 

137 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

into  the  town.  They  protested,  therefore,  their  inno- 
cence of  the  cause  of  tumult,  and  endeavoured  to  seem 
active  in  hastening  from  house  to  house,  and  corner  to 
corner,  with  their  torches,  in  order  to  discover  the  in- 
visible cavalier.  The  English  suspected  them  no  less  of 
treachery  than  the  Scottish  imagined  the  whole  matter 
a  pretext  for  bringing  an  accusation,  on  the  part  of  the 
young  knight,  against  the  citizens.  The  women,  how- 
ever, who  now  began  to  issue  from  the  houses,  had  a  key 
for  the  solution  of  the  apparition,  which  at  that  time 
was  believed  of  efficacy  sufficient  to  solve  any  mystery. 
*The  Devil,'  they  said,  'must  have  appeared  visibly 
amongst  them '  —  an  explanation  which  had  already 
occurred  to  the  followers  of  the  young  knight;  for  that 
a  living  man  and  horse,  both,  as  it  seemed,  of  a  gigantic 
size,  could  be  conjured  in  the  twinkling  of  an  eye,  and 
appear  in  a  street  secured  at  one  end  by  the  best  of  the 
archers,  and  at  the  other  by  the  horsemen  under  Valence 
himself,  was  altogether,  it  seemed,  a  thing  impossible. 
The  inhabitants  did  not  venture  to  put  their  thoughts 
on  the  subject  into  language,  for  fear  of  giving  offence, 
and  only  indicated  by  a  passing  word  to  each  other  the 
secret  degree  of  pleasure  which  they  felt  in  the  confusion 
and  embarrassment  of  the  Enghsh  garrison.  Still,  how- 
ever, they  continued  to  affect  a  great  deal  of  interest  in 
the  alarm  which  De  Valence  had  received,  and  the 
anxiety  which  he  expressed  to  discover  the  cause. 

At  length  a  female  voice  spoke  above  the  Babel  of 
confused  sounds,  saying,  'Where  is  the  Southern  knight? 
I  am  sure  that  I  can  tell  him  where  he  can  find  the  only 
person  who  can  help  him  out  of  his  present  difficulty.' 

'And  who   is   that,  good  woman?'  said  Aymer  de 

138 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Valence,  who  was  growing  every  moment  more  impa- 
tient at  the  loss  of  time,  which  was  flying  fast,  in  an  in- 
vestigation which  had  something  in  it  vexatious,  and 
even  ridiculous.  At  the  same  time,  the  sight  of  an  armed 
partizan  of  the  Douglasses,  in  their  own  native  town, 
seemed  to  bode  too  serious  consequences,  if  it  should  be 
suffered  to  pass  without  being  probed  to  the  bottom. 

'  Come  hither  to  me,'  said  the  female  voice, '  and  I  will 
name  to  you  the  only  person  who  can  explain  all  matters 
of  this  kind  that  chance  in  this  country.'  On  this  the 
knight  snatched  a  torch  from  some  of  those  who  were 
present,  and,  holding  it  up,  descried  the  person  who 
spoke  —  a  tall  woman,  who  evidently  endeavoured  to 
render  herself  remarkable.  When  he  approached  her, 
she  communicated  her  intelligence  in  a  grave  and 
sententious  tone  of  voice. 

*  We  had  once  wise  men  that  could  have  answered  any 
parables  which  might  have  been  put  to  them  for  expla- 
nation in  this  country-side.  Whether  you  yourselves, 
gentlemen,  have  not  had  some  hand  in  weeding  them 
out,  good  troth,  it  is  not  for  the  like  of  me  to  say;  at 
any  rate,  good  counsel  is  not  so  easy  come  by  as  it  was 
in  this  Douglas  country,  nor,  maybe,  is  it  a  safe  thing 
to  pretend  to  the  power  of  giving  it.' 

'Good  woman,'  said  De  Valence,  'if  you  will  give  me 
an  explanation  of  this  mystery,  I  will  owe  you  a  kirtle 
of  the  best  raploch  grey.' 

'It  is  not  I,'  said  the  old  woman,  'that  pretend  to 
possess  the  knowledge  which  may  assist  you;  but  I 
would  fain  know  that  the  man  whom  I  shall  name  to 
you  shall  be  scaithless  and  harmless.  Upon  your  knight- 
hood and  your  honour,  will  you  promise  to  me  so  much? ' 

139 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'Assuredly,'  said  De  Valence, '  such  a  person  shall  even 
have  thanks  and  reward,  if  he  is  a  faithful  informer;  ay, 
and  pardon,  moreover,  although  he  may  have  listened 
to  any  dangerous  practices,  or  been  concerned  in  any 
plots.' 

'Oh!  not  he,'  replied  the  female;  'it  is  old  Goodman 
Powheid,  who  has  the  charge  of  the  muniments  (mean- 
ing probably  monuments)  —  that  is,  such  part  of  them 
as  you  English  have  left  standing;  I  mean  the  old  sexton 
of  the  kirk  of  Douglas,  who  can  tell  more  stories  of  these 
old  folk,  whom  your  honour  is  not  very  fond  of  hearing 
named,  than  would  last  us  from  this  day  to  Yule.' 

'Does  anybody,'  said  the  knight,  'know  whom  it  is 
that  this  old  woman  means? ' 

'I  conjecture,'  replied  Fabian,  'that  she  speaks  of  an 
old  dotard,  who  is,  I  think,  the  general  referee  concern- 
ing the  history  and  antiquities  of  this  old  town,  and  of 
the  savage  family  that  lived  here,  perhaps  before  the 
flood.' 

'And  who,  I  daresay,'  said  the  knight,  'knows  as  much 
about  the  matter  as  she  herself  does.  But  where  is  this 
man?  A  sexton  is  he?  He  may  be  acquainted  with 
places  of  concealment,  which  are  often  fabricated  in 
Gothic  buildings,  and  known  to  those  whose  business 
calls  them  to  frequent  them.  Come,  my  good  old  dame, 
bring  this  man  to  me;  or,  what  may  be  better,  I  will  go 
to  him,  for  we  have  already  spent  too  much  time.' 

'  Time ! '  rephed  the  old  woman  —  '  is  time  an  object 
with  your  honour?  I  am  sure  I  can  hardly  get  so  much 
for  mine  as  will  hold  soul  and  body  together.  You  are 
not  far  from  the  old  man's  house.' 

She  led  the  way  accordingly,  blundering  over  heaps  of 

140 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

rubbish,  and  encountering  all  the  embarrassments  of  a 
ruinous  street,  in  lighting  the  way  to  Sir  Aymer,  who, 
giving  his  horse  to  one  of  his  attendants,  and  desiring 
Fabian  to  be  ready  at  a  call,  scrambled  after  as  well  as 
the  slowness  of  his  guide  would  permit. 

Both  were  soon  involved  in  the  remains  of  the  old 
church,  much  dilapidated  as  it  had  been  by  wanton 
damage  done  to  it  by  the  soldiery,  and  so  much  impeded 
by  rubbish,  that  the  knight  marvelled  how  the  old  woman 
could  find  the  way.  She  kept  talking  all  the  while  as  she 
stumbled  onward.  Sometimes  she  called  out  in  a  screech- 
ing tone,  '  Powheid !  —  Lazarus  Powheid ! '  and  then 
muttered  —  *  Ay  —  ay,  the  old  man  will  be  busy  with 
some  of  his  duties,  as  he  calls  them ;  I  wonder  he  fashes 
wi'  them  in  these  times.  But  never  mind,  I  warrant 
they  will  last  for  his  day,  and  for  mine;  and  the  times, 
Lord  help  us!  for  all  that  I  can  see,  are  well  enough  for 
those  that  are  to  live  in  them.' 

'Are  you  sure,  good  woman,'  replied  the  knight,  'that 
there  is  any  inhabitant  in  these  ruins?  For  my  part,  I 
should  rather  suppose  that  you  are  taking  me  to  the 
charnel-house  of  the  dead.' 

'Maybe  you  are  right,'  said  the  old  woman,  with  a 
ghastly  laugh;  'carles  and  carHnes  agree  weel  with  fu- 
neral vaults  and  charnel-houses,  and  when  an  auld  bedral 
dwells  near  the  dead,  he  is  living,  ye  ken,  among  his 
customers.  Halloo,  Powheid!  —  Lazarus  Powheid! 
there  is  a  gentleman  would  speak  with  you';  and  she 
added,  with  some  sort  of  emphasis  —  '  an  EngHsh  noble 
gentleman,  one  of  the  honourable  garrison.' 

An  old  man's  step  was  now  heard  advancing,  so  slowly 
that  the  glimmering  light  which  he  held  in  his  hand  was 

141 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

visible  on  the  ruined  walls  of  the  vault  some  time  before 
it  showed  the  person  who  bore  it. 

The  shadow  of  the  old  man  was  also  projected  upon 
the  illuminated  wall  ere  his  person  came  in  view;  his 
dress  was  in  considerable  confusion,  owing  to  his  having 
been  roused  from  his  bed;  and  since  artificial  light  was 
forbidden  by  the  regulations  of  the  garrison,  the  natives 
of  Douglas  Dale  spent  in  sleep  the  time  that  they  could 
not  very  well  get  rid  of  by  any  other  means.  The  sexton 
was  a  tall,  thin  man,  emaciated  by  years  and  by  priva- 
tions; his  body  was  bent  habitually  by  his  occupation 
of  grave-digging,  and  his  eye  naturally  inclined  down- 
wards to  the  scene  of  his  labours.  His  hand  sustained 
the  cruise  or  little  lamp,  which  he  held  so  as  to  throw 
light  upon  his  visitant ;  at  the  same  time  it  displayed  to 
the  young  knight  the  features  of  the  person  with  whom 
he  was  now  confronted,  which,  though  neither  handsome 
nor  pleasing,  were  strongly  marked,  sagacious,  and  ven- 
erable, indicating,  at  the  same  time,  a  certain  air  of 
dignity,  which  age,  even  mere  poverty,  may  be  found 
occasionally  to  bestow,  as  conferring  that  last  melan- 
choly species  of  independence  proper  to  those  whose 
situation  can  hardly,  by  any  imaginable  means,  be 
rendered  much  worse  than  years  and  fortune  have 
already  made  it.  The  habit  of  a  lay  brother  added  some- 
what of  religious  importance  to  his  appearance. 

'What  would  you  with  me,  young  man?'  said  the 
sexton.  'Your  youthful  features  and  your  gay  dress 
bespeak  one  who  stands  in  need  of  my  ministry  neither 
for  himself  nor  for  others.' 

'I  am,  indeed,'  replied  the  knight,  'a  living  man,  and 
therefore  need  not  either  shovel  or  pick-axe  for  my  own 

142 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

behoof.  I  am  not,  as  you  see,  attired  in  mourning,  and 
therefore  need  not  your  offices  in  behalf  of  any  friend :  I 
would  only  ask  you  a  few  questions.' 

*  What  you  would  have  done  must  needs  be  done,  you 
being  at  present  one  of  our  rulers,  and,  as  I  think,  a  man 
of  authority,'  replied  the  sexton.  'Follow  me  this  way 
into  my  poor  habitation;  I  have  had  a  better  in  my  day, 
and  yet.  Heaven  knows,  it  is  good  enough  for  me,  when 
many  men  of  much  greater  consequence  must  perforce 
content  themselves  with  worse.' 

He  opened  a  lowly  door,  which  was  fitted,  though 
irregularly,  to  serve  as  the  entrance  of  a  vaulted  apart- 
ment, where  it  appeared  that  the  old  man  held,  apart 
from  the  living  world,  his  wretched  and  solitary  dwell- 
ing.^ The  floor,  composed  of  paving-stones,  laid  together 
with  some  accuracy,  and  here  and  there  inscribed  with 
letters  and  hieroglyphics,  as  if  they  had  once  upon  a 
time  served  to  distinguish  sepulchres,  was  indifferently 
well  swept,  and  a  fire  at  the  upper  end  directed  its  smoke 
into  a  hole  which  served  for  a  chimney.  The  spade  and 
pick-axe,  with  other  tools,  which  the  chamberlain  of 
mortahty  makes  use  of,  lay  scattered  about  the  apart- 
ment, and,  with  a  rude  stool  or  two  and  a  table,  where 
some  inexperienced  hand  had  unquestionably  supplied 
the  labours  of  the  joiner,  were  nearly  the  only  furniture, 
if  we  include  the  old  man's  bed  of  straw,  lying  in  a  cor- 
ner, and  discomposed,  as  if  he  had  been  just  raised  from 
it.  At  the  lower  end  of  the  apartment  the  wall  was 
almost  entirely  covered  by  a  large  escutcheon,  such  as  is 
usually  hung  over  the  graves  of  men  of  very  high  rank, 
having  the  appropriate  quarters,  to  the  number  of  six 

1  See  Note  5. 
143 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

teen,  each  properly  blazoned  and  distinct,  placed  as 
ornaments  around  the  principal  armorial  coat  itself. 

'Let  us  sit,'  said  the  old  man:  'the  posture  will  better 
enable  my  failing  ears  to  apprehend  your  meaning,  and 
the  asthma  will  deal  with  me  more  mercifully  in  per- 
mitting me  to  make  you  understand  mine.' 

A  peal  of  short  asthmatic  coughs  attested  the  violence 
of  the  disorder  which  he  had  last  named,  and  the  young 
knight  followed  his  host's  example,  in  sitting  down  on 
one  of  the  rickety  stools  by  the  side  of  the  fire.  The  old 
man  brought  from  one  corner  of  the  apartment  an  apron, 
which  he  occasionally  wore,  full  of  broken  boards  in 
irregular  pieces,  some  of  which  were  covered  with  black 
cloth,  or  driven  full  of  nails,  black,  as  it  might  happen, 
or  gilded. 

'You  will  find  this  fresh  fuel  necessary,'  said  the  old 
man,  'to  keep  some  degree  of  heat  within  this  waste 
apartment;  nor  are  the  vapours  of  mortality,  with  which 
this  vault  is  apt  to  be  filled,  if  the  fire  is  permitted  to 
become  extinct,  indifferent  to  the  lungs  of  the  dainty 
and  the  healthy,  like  your  worship,  though  to  me  they 
are  become  habitual.  The  wood  will  catch  fire,  although 
it  is  some  time  ere  the  damps  of  the  grave  are  overcome 
by  the  drier  air  and  the  warmth  of  the  chimney.' 

Accordingly,  the  relics  of  mortality  with  which  the 
old  man  had  heaped  his  fireplace  began  by  degrees  to 
send  forth  a  thick,  unctuous  vapour,  which  at  length 
leaped  to  light,  and,  blazing  up  the  aperture,  gave  a 
degree  of  liveliness  to  the  gloomy  scene.  The  blazonry 
of  the  huge  escutcheon  met  and  returned  the  rays  with 
as  brilliant  a  reflection  as  that  lugubrious  object  was 
capable  of,  and  the  whole  apartment  looked  with  a  fan- 

144 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

tastic  gaiety,  strangely  mingled  with  the  gloomy  ideas 
which  its  ornaments  were  calculated  to  impress  upon 
the  imagination. 

'You  are  astonished,'  said  the  old  man,  'and  perhaps, 
sir  knight,  you  have  never  before  seen  these  relics  of  the 
dead  applied  to  the  purpose  of  rendering  the  living,  in 
some  degree,  more  comfortable  than  their  condition 
would  otherwise  admit  of.' 

'Comfortable!'  returned  the  knight  of  Valence,  shrug- 
ging his  shoulders ; '  I  should  be  sorry,  old  man,  to  know 
that  I  had  a  dog  that  was  as  indifferently  quartered  as 
thou  art,  whose  grey  hairs  have  certainly  seen  better 
days.' 

'It  may  be,'  answered  the  sexton,  'and  it  may  be 
otherwise;  but  it  was  not,  I  presume,  concerning  my 
own  history  that  your  worship  seemed  disposed  to  ask 
me  some  questions;  and  I  would  venture  to  inquire, 
therefore,  to  whom  they  have  relation? ' 

'I  will  speak  plainly  to  you,'  replied  Sir  Aymer,  'and 
you  will  at  once  acknowledge  the  necessity  of  giving  a 
short  and  distinct  reply.  I  have  even  now  met  in  the 
streets  of  this  village  a  person  only  shown  to  me  by  a 
single  flash  of  light,  who  had  the  audacity  to  display  the 
armorial  insignia  and  utter  the  war-cry  of  the  Douglasses ; 
nay,  if  I  could  trust  a  transient  glance,  this  daring  cava- 
lier had  the  features  and  the  dark  complexion  proper 
to  the  Douglas.  I  am  referred  to  thee  as  to  one  who 
possesses  means  of  explaining  this  extraordinary  cir- 
cumstance, which,  as  an  English  knight,  and  one  hold- 
ing a  charge  under  King  Edward,  I  am  particularly 
called  upon  to  make  inquiry  into.' 

'Let  me  make  a  distinction,'  said  the  old  man.   'The 

45  145 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Douglasses  of  former  generations  are  my  near  neigh- 
bours, and,  according  to  my  superstitious  townsmen, 
my  acquaintances  and  visitors;  I  can  take  it  upon  my 
conscience  to  be  answerable  for  their  good  behaviour, 
and  to  become  bound  that  none  of  the  old  barons,  to 
whom  the  roots  of  that  mighty  tree  may,  it  is  said,  be 
traced,  will  again  disturb  with  their  war-cry  the  towns 
or  villages  of  their  native  country:  not  one  will  parade 
in  moonshine  the  black  armour  which  has  long  rusted 
upon  their  tombs. 

The  knights  are  dust, 

And  their  good  swords  are  rust; 

Their  souls  are  with  the  saints,  we  trust.* 

Look  around,  sir  knight,  you  have  above  and  around 
you  the  men  of  whom  we  speak.  Beneath  us,  in  a  little 
aisle,  which  hath  not  been  opened  since  these  thin  grey 
locks  were  thick  and  brown,  there  lies  the  first  man  whom 
I  can  name  as  memorable  among  those  of  this  mighty 
line.  It  is  he  whom  the  Thane  of  Athol  pointed  out  to 
the  King  of  Scotland  as  Sholto  Dhuglass,  or  the  dark 
iron-coloured  man,  whose  exertions  had  gained  the  battle 
for  his  native  prince ;  and  who,  according  to  this  legend, 
bequeathed  his  name  to  our  dale  and  town,  though  others 
say  that  the  race  assumed  the  name  of  Douglas  from  the 
stream  so  called  in  unrecorded  times,  before  they  had 
their  fastness  on  its  banks.  Others,  his  descendants, 
called  Eachain,  or  Hector  the  first,  and  Orodh,  or  Hugh, 
William,  the  first  of  that  name,  and  Gilmour,  the  theme 
of  many  a  minstrel  song,  commemorating  achievements 
done  imder  the  oriflamme  of  Charles  the  Great,  Emperor 
of  France,  have  all  consigned  themselves  to  their  last 
»  See  Note  6. 
146 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

sleep,  nor  has  their  memory  been  sufficiently  preserved 
from  the  waste  of  time.  Something  we  know  concerning 
their  great  deeds,  their  great  power,  and,  alas!  their 
great  crimes.  Something  we  also  know  of  a  Lord  of 
Douglas  who  sat  in  a  parliament  at  Forfar,  held  by 
King  Malcolm  the  First,  and  we  are  aware  that,  from 
his  attachment  to  hunting  the  wild  hart,  he  built  him- 
self a  tower  called  Blackhouse,  in  the  Forest  of  Ettrick, 
which  perhaps  still  exists.' 

*I  crave  your  forgiveness,  old  man,'  said  the  knight, 
'  but  I  have  no  time  at  present  to  bestow  upon  the  reci- 
tation of  the  pedigree  of  the  house  of  Douglas.  A  less 
matter  would  hold  a  well-breathed  minstrel  in  subject 
for  recitation  for  a  calendar  month,  Sundays  and  holy- 
days  included.' 

'What  other  information  can  you  expect  from  me,' 
said  the  sexton,  'than  that  respecting  those  heroes,  some 
of  whom  it  has  been  my  lot  to  consign  to  that  eternal 
rest  which  will  for  ever  divide  the  dead  from  the  duties 
of  this  world  ?  I  have  told  you  where  the  race  sleep  down 
to  the  reign  of  the  royal  Malcolm.  I  can  tell  you  also 
of  another  vault,  in  which  lie  Sir  John  of  Douglas  Burn, 
with  his  son  Lord  Archibald,  and  a  third  William, 
known  by  an  indenture  with  Lord  Abernethy.  Lastly, 
I  can  tell  you  of  him  to  whom  that  escutcheon,  with  its 
appurtenances  of  splendour  and  dignity,  justly  belong. 
Do  you  envy  that  nobleman,  whom,  if  death  were  in 
the  sound,  I  would  not  hesitate  to  term  my  honourable 
patron?  and  have  you  any  design  of  dishonouring  his 
remains?  It  will  be  a  poor  victory;  nor  does  it  become  a 
knight  and  nobleman  to  come  in  person  to  enjoy  such 
a  triumph  over  the  dead,  against  whom,  when  he  lived, 

147 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

there  were  few  knights  dared  spur  their  horses.  He 
fought  in  defence  of  his  coimtry,  but  he  had  not  the  good 
fortune  of  most  of  his  ancestors,  to  die  on  the  field  of 
battle.  Captivity,  sickness,  and  regret  for  the  misfor- 
tunes of  his  native  land  brought  his  head  to  the  grave 
in  his  prison-house,  in  the  land  of  the  stranger.' 

The  old  man's  voice  here  became  interrupted  by  emo- 
tion, and  the  English  knight  found  it  difficult  to  con- 
tinue his  examination  in  the  stem  fashion  which  his 
duty  required. 

'Old  man,'  he  said,  'I  do  not  require  from  thee  this 
detail,  which  must  be  useless  to  me,  as  well  as  painful  to 
thyself.  Thou  dost  but  thy  duty  in  rendering  justice 
to  thy  ancient  lord ;  but  thou  hast  not  yet  explained  to 
me  why  I  have  met  in  this  town,  this  very  night,  and 
not  half  an  hour  since,  a  person  in  the  arms,  and  bearing 
the  complexion,  of  one  of  the  Black  Douglasses,  who 
cried  his  war-cry  as  if  in  contempt  of  his  conquerors.' 

'Surely,'  replied  the  sexton,  'it  is  not  my  business  to 
explain  such  a  fancy,  otherwise  than  by  supposing  that 
the  natural  fears  of  the  Southron  will  raise  the  spectre 
of  a  Douglas  at  any  time,  when  he  is  within  sight  of  their 
sepulchre.  Methinks,  in  such  a  night  as  this,  the  fairest 
cavalier  would  wear  the  complexion  of  this  swarthy 
race;  nor  can  I  hold  it  wonderful  that  the  war-cry  which 
was  once  in  the  throats  of  so  many  thousands  in  this 
country  should  issue  upon  occasion  from  the  mouth  of 
a  single  champion.' 

'You  are  bold,  old  man,'  returned  the  English  knight; 
*do  you  consider  that  your  life  is  in  my  power,  and  that 
it  may,  in  certain  cases,  be  my  duty  to  inflict  death  with 
that  degree  of  pain  at  which  humanity  shudders? ' 

148 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

The  old  man  rose  up  slowly  in  the  light  of  the  blazing 
fire,  displaying  his  emaciated  features,  which  resembled 
those  ascribed  by  artists  to  St.  Anthony  of  the  desert, 
and  pointing  to  the  feeble  lamp,  which  he  placed  upon 
the  coarse  table,  thus  addressed  his  interrogator,  with 
an  appearance  of  perfect  firmness,  and  something  even 
resembling  dignity: 

'Young  knight  of  England,  you  see  that  utensil  con- 
structed for  the  purpose  of  dispensing  Ught  amidst  these 
fatal  vaults ;  it  is  as  frail  as  anything  can  well  be,  whose 
flame  is  supplied  by  living  element,  contained  in  a  frame 
composed  of  iron.  It  is  doubtless  in  your  power  entirely 
to  end  its  service,  by  destroying  the  frame  or  extinguish- 
ing the  light.  Threaten  it  with  such  annihilation,  sir 
knight,  and  see  whether  your  menace  will  impress  any 
sense  of  fear  either  on  the  element  or  the  iron.  Know 
that  you  have  no  more  power  over  the  frail  mortal  whom 
you  threaten  with  similar  annihilation.  You  may  tear 
from  my  body  the  skin  in  which  it  is  now  swathed;  but 
although  my  nerves  might  glow  with  agony  during  the 
inhuman  operation,  it  would  produce  no  more  impres- 
sion on  me  than  flaying  on  the  stag  which  an  arrow  has 
previously  pierced  through  the  heart.  My  age  sets  me 
beyond  your  cruelty:  if  you  think  otherwise,  call  your 
agents,  and  commence  your  operations;  neither  threats 
nor  inflictions  will  enable  you  to  extort  from  me  any- 
thing that  I  am  not  ready  to  tell  you  of  my  own  accord.' 

'You  trifle  with  me,  old  man,'  said  De  Valence:  'you 
talk  as  if  you  possessed  some  secret  respecting  the  mo- 
tions of  these  Douglasses,  who  are  to  you  as  gods,  yet 
you  communicate  no  intelligence  to  me  whatever.' 

'You  may  soon  know,'  repHed  the  old  man, ' all  that  a 

I4Q 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

poor  sexton  has  to  communicate;  and  it  will  not  increase 
your  knowledge  respecting  the  living,  though  it  may 
throw  some  light  upon  my  proper  domains,  which  are 
those  of  the  dead.  The  spirits  of  the  deceased  Douglasses 
do  not  rest  in  their  graves  during  the  dishonour  of  their 
monuments  and  the  downfall  of  their  house.  That,  upon 
death,  the  greater  part  of  any  line  are  consigned  to  the 
regions  of  eternal  bliss  or  of  never-ending  misery 
religion  will  not  suffer  us  to  believe,  and,  amidst  a  race 
who  had  so  great  a  share  of  worldly  triumph  and  pros- 
perity, we  must  suppose  there  have  existed  many  who 
have  been  justly  subjected  to  the  doom  of  an  intermedi- 
ate space  of  punishment.  You  have  destroyed  the  tem- 
ples which  were  built  by  their  posterity  to  propitiate 
Heaven  for  the  welfare  of  their  souls ;  you  have  silenced 
the  prayers  and  stopt  the  choirs  by  the  mediation  of 
which  the  piety  of  children  had  sought  to  appease  the 
wrath  of  Heaven  in  behalf  of  their  ancestors,  subjected 
to  expiatory  fires.  Can  you  wonder  that  the  tormented 
spirits,  thus  deprived  of  the  relief  which  had  been  pro- 
posed to  them,  should  not,  according  to  the  common 
phrase,  rest  in  their  graves?  Can  you  wonder  they 
should  show  themselves  like  discontented  loiterers  near 
to  the  places  which,  but  for  the  manner  in  which  you 
have  prosecuted  your  remorseless  warfare,  might  have 
ere  now  afforded  them  rest?  Or  do  you  marvel  that 
these  fieshless  warriors  should  interrupt  your  marches, 
and  do  what  else  their  airy  nature  may  permit  to  disturb 
your  councils,  and  meet  as  far  as  they  may  the  hostili- 
ties which  you  make  it  your  boast  to  carry  on,  as  well 
against  those  who  are  deceased  as  against  any  who  may 
yet  survive  your  cruelty?  * 

ISO 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'Old  man,'  replied  Aymer  de  Valence,  'you  cannot 
expect  that  I  am  to  take  for  answer  a  story  like  this, 
being  a  fiction  too  gross  to  charm  to  sleep  a  schoolboy 
tormented  with  the  toothache;  nevertheless,  I  thank 
God  that  thy  doom  does  not  remain  in  my  hands.  My 
squire  and  two  archers  shall  carry  thee  captive  to  the 
worshipful  Sir  John  de  Walton,  governor  of  the  castle 
and  valley,  that  he  may  deal  with  thee  as  seems  meet; 
nor  is  he  a  person  to  believe  in  your  apparitions  and 
ghosts  from  purgatory.  What  ho !  Fabian !  Come  hither, 
and  bring  with  thee  two  archers  of  the  guard.' 

Fabian  accordingly,  who  had  waited  at  the  entrance  of 
the  ruined  building,  now  found  his  way,  by  the  light  of 
the  old  sexton's  lamp,  and  the  sound  of  his  master's 
voice,  into  the  singular  apartment  of  the  old  man,  the 
strange  decorations  of  which  struck  the  youth  with  great 
surprise  and  some  horror. 

'Take  the  two  archers  with  thee,  Fabian,'  said  the 
knight  of  Valence,  'and,  with  their  assistance,  convey 
this  old  man,  on  horseback  or  in  a  litter,  to  the  presence 
of  the  worshipful  Sir  John  de  Walton.  Tell  him  what  we 
have  seen,  which  thou  didst  witness  as  well  as  I;  and 
tell  him  that  this  old  sexton,  whom  I  send  to  be  examined 
by  his  superior  wisdom,  seems  to  know  more  than  he  is 
willing  to  disclose  respecting  our  ghostly  cavalier, 
though  he  will  give  us  no  account  of  him,  except  inti- 
mating that  he  is  a  spirit  of  the  old  Douglasses  from  pur- 
gatory, to  which  Sir  John  de  Walton  will  give  what  faith 
he  pleases.  You  may  say  that,  for  my  part,  my  belief 
is,  either  that  the  sexton  is  crazed  by  age,  want,  and 
enthusiasm,  or  that  he  is  connected  with  some  plot 
which  the  country  people  are  hatching.  You  may  also 

151 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

say,  that  I  shall  not  use  much  ceremony  with  the  youth 
under  the  care  of  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride;  there  is  some- 
thing suspicious  in  all  the  occurrences  that  are  now 
passing  around  us.' 

Fabian  promised  obedience;  and  the  knight,  pulling 
him  aside,  gave  him  an  additional  caution  to  behave 
with  attention  in  this  business,  seeing  he  must  recollect 
that  neither  the  judgment  of  himself  nor  that  of  his 
master  were  apparently  held  in  very  much  esteem  by 
the  governor,  and  that  it  would  ill  become  them  to 
make  any  mistake  in  a  matter  where  the  safety  of  the 
castle  was  perhaps  concerned. 

'Fear  me  not,  worshipful  sir/  replied  the  youth;  'I 
am  returning  to  pure  air  in  the  first  place,  and  a  good 
fire  in  the  second,  both  acceptable  exchanges  for  this 
dungeon  o^  suffocating  vapours  and  execrable  smells. 
You  may  trust  to  my  making  no  delay:  a  very  short 
time  will  carry  me  back  to  Castle  Douglas,  even  moving 
with  suitable  attention  to  this  old  man's  bones.' 

*Use  him  humanely,'  answered  the  knight.  'And 
thou,  old  man,  if  thou  art  insensible  to  threats  of  per- 
sonal danger  in  this  matter,  remember  that,  if  thou  art 
found  paltering  with  us,  thy  punishment  will  perhaps 
be  more  severe  than  any  we  can  inflict  upon  thy  per- 
son.' 

'  Can  you  administer  the  torture  to  the  soul? '  said  the 
sexton. 

*As  to  thee,'  answered  the  knight,  'we  have  that 
power:  we  will  dissolve  every  monastery  or  religious 
establishment  held  for  the  souls  of  these  Douglasses,  and 
will  only  allow  the  religious  people  to  hold  their  residence 
there  upon  conditon  of  their  praying  for  the  soul  of  King 

152 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Edward  the  First  of  glorious  memory,  the  malleus  ScoU 
orum;  and  if  the  Douglasses  are  deprived  of  the  ghostly 
benefit  of  the  prayers  and  services  of  such  shrines,  they 
may  term  thy  obstinacy  the  cause.' 

*  Such  a  species  of  vengeance/  answered  the  old  man, 
in  the  same  bold  unsubdued  tone  which  he  had  hitherto 
used,  'were  more  worthy  of  the  infernal  fiends  than  of 
Christian  men.' 

The  squire  raised  his  hand.  The  knight  interposed. 
'Forbear  him,'  he  said,  'Fabian,  he  is  very  old,  and  per- 
haps insane.  And  you,  sexton,  remember  that  the  ven- 
geance threatened  is  lawfully  directed  towards  a  family 
which  have  been  the  obstinate  supporters  of  the  excom- 
municated rebel  who  murdered  the  Red  Comyn  at  the 
High  Church  in  Dumfries.' 

So  saying,  Aymer  strode  out  of  the  ruins,  picking  his 
way  with  some  difficulty;  took  his  horse,  which  he  found 
at  the  entrance;  repeated  a  caution  to  Fabian  to  con- 
duct himself  with  prudence;  and,  passing  on  to  the  south- 
western gate,  gave  the  strongest  injunctions  concerning 
the  necessity  of  keeping  a  vigilant  watch,  both  by  patrols 
and  by  sentinels,  intimating  at  the  same  time  that  it 
must  have  been  neglected  during  the  preceding  part  of 
the  evening.  The  men  murmured  an  apology,  the  con- 
fusion of  which  seemed  to  express  that  there  had  existed 
some  occasion  for  the  reprimand. 

Sir  Aymer  then  proceeded  on  his  journey  to  Hazelside, 
his  train  diminished  by  the  absence  of  Fabian  and  his 
assistants.  After  a  hasty  but  not  a  short  journey,  the 
knight  alighted  at  Thomas  Dickson's,  where  he  found 
the  detachment  from  Ayr  had  arrived  before  him,  and 
were  snugly  housed  for  the  night.    He  sent  one  of  the 

153 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

archers  to  announce  his  approach  to  the  abbot  of  St. 
Bride  and  his  young  guest,  intimating  at  the  same 
time  that  the  archer  must  keep  sight  of  the  latter 
imtil  he  himself  arrived  at  the  chapel,  which  would  be 
instantly. 


CHAPTER  X 

When  the  nightengale  singes  the  wodes  waxen  grene, 
Lef,  and  gras,  and  blosme  springeth  in  April  I  wene, 
And  love  is  to  myne  herte  gone  with  one  speare  so  kene. 
Night  and  day  my  blood  hyt  drynkes,  miae  herte  deth  me  tene. 

MSS.  Hail.  Quoted  by  Warton. 

Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  had  no  sooner  followed  his 
archer  to  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  than  he  summoned 
the  abbot  to  his  presence,  who  came  with  the  air  of  a 
man  who  loves  his  ease,  and  who  is  suddenly  called  from 
the  couch  where  he  has  consigned  himself  to  a  comfort- 
able repose,  at  the  summons  of  one  whom  he  does  not 
think  it  safe  to  disobey,  and  to  whom  he  would  not  dis- 
guise his  sense  of  peevishness,  if  he  durst. 

*  It  is  a  late  ride,'  he  said,  'which  has  brought  your 
worthy  honour  hither  from  the  castle.  May  I  be  in- 
formed of  the  cause,  after  the  arrangement  so  recently 
gone  into  with  the  governor? ' 

'It  is  my  hope,'  replied  the  knight,  'that  you,  father 
abbot,  are  not  already  conscious  of  it;  suspicions  are 
afloat,  and  I  myself  have  this  night  seen  something  to 
confirm  them,  that  some  of  the  obstinate  rebels  of  this 
country  are  again  setting  afoot  dangerous  practices,  to 
the  peril  of  the  garrison;  and  I  come,  father,  to  see 
whether,  in  requital  of  many  favours  received  from  the 
English  monarch,  you  will  not  merit  his  bounty  and 
protection  by  contributing  to  the  discovery  of  the  design 
of  his  enemies.' 

'Assuredly  so,'  answered  Father  Jerome,  in  an  agitated 

155 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

voice.  'Most  unquestionably  my  information  should 
stand  at  your  command;  that  is,  if  I  knew  anything  the 
communication  of  which  could  be  of  advantage  to  you.' 

'Father  abbot,'  replied  the  English  knight,  'although 
it  is  rash  to  make  myself  responsible  for  a  North  Country 
man  in  these  times,  yet  I  own  I  do  consider  you  as  one 
who  has  ever  been  faithfully  subject  to  the  King  of 
England,  and  I  willingly  hope  that  you  will  still  con- 
tinue so.' 

'And  a  fine  encouragement  I  have!'  said  the  abbot; 
'to  be  called  out  of  my  bed  at  midnight,  in  this  raw 
weather,  to  undergo  the  examination  of  a  knight  who  is 
the  youngest,  perhaps,  of  his  own  honourable  rank,  and 
who  will  not  tell  me  the  subject  of  the  interrogatories, 
but  detains  me  on  this  cold  pavement  till,  according  to 
the  opinion  of  Celsus,  the  podagra  which  lurks  in  my 
feet  may  be  driven  into  my  stomach,  and  then  good- 
night to  abbacy  and  examinations  from  henceforward.' 

'Good  father,'  said  the  young  man,  'the  spirit  of  the 
times  must  teach  thee  patience;  recollect  that  I  can  feel 
no  pleasure  in  this  duty,  and  that,  if  an  insurrection 
should  take  place,  the  rebels,  who  are  sufficiently  dis- 
pleased with  thee  for  acknowledging  the  English  mon- 
arch, would  hang  thee  from  thine  own  steeple  to  feed 
the  crows;  or  that,  if  thou  hast  secured  thy  peace  by 
some  private  compact  with  the  insurgents,  the  English 
governor,  who  will  sooner  or  later  gain  the  advantage, 
will  not  fail  to  treat  thee  as  a  rebel  to  his  sovereign.' 

'It  may  appear  to  you,  my  noble  son,'  answered  the 
abbot,  obviously  discomposed,  'that  I  am  hung  up,  in 
this  case,  on  the  horns  of  the  dilemma  which  you  have 
stated;  nevertheless,  I  protest  to  you  that,  if  any  one 

156 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

accuses  me  of  conspiring  with  the  rebels  against  the 
King  of  England,  I  am  ready,  provided  you  give  me  time 
to  swallow  a  potion  recommended  by  Celsus  in  my  peril- 
ous case,  to  answer  with  the  most  perfect  sincerity  every 
question  which  thou  canst  put  to  me  upon  that  subject.' 
So  saying,  he  called  upon  a  monk  who  had  attended  at 
his  levee,  and,  giving  him  a  large  key,  whispered  some- 
thing in  his  ear.  The  cup  which  the  monk  brought  was 
of  such  capacity  as  proved  Celsus's  draught  required 
to  be  administered  in  considerable  quantity,  and  a  strong 
smell  which  it  spread  through  the  apartment  accredited 
the  knight's  suspicion  that  the  medicine  chiefly  con- 
sisted of  what  were  then  termed  distilled  waters  —  a 
preparation  known  in  the  monasteries  for  some  time 
before  that  comfortable  secret  had  reached  the  laity 
in  general.  The  abbot,  neither  overawed  by  the  strength 
nor  by  the  quantity  of  the  potion,  took  it  off  with  what 
he  himself  would  have  called  a  feeling  of  solace  and 
pleasance,  and  his  voice  became  much  more  composed ; 
he  signified  himself  as  comforted  extraordinarily  by  the 
medicine,  and  willing  to  proceed  to  answer  any  questions 
which  could  be  put  to  him  by  his  gallant  young  friend. 

*At  present,'  said  the  knight,  'you  are  aware,  father, 
that  strangers  travelling  through  this  country  must  be 
the  first  objects  of  our  suspicions  and  inquiries.  What  is, 
for  example,  your  own  opinion  of  the  youth  termed 
Augustine,  the  son,  or  calling  himself  so,  of  a  person 
called  Bertram  the  minstrel,  who  has  resided  for  some 
days  in  your  convent? ' 

The  abbot  heard  the  question  with  eyes  expressive  of 
surprise  at  the  quarter  from  which  it  came. 

'Assuredly,'  said  he,  'I  think  of  him  as  a  youth  who, 

157 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

from  anything  I  have  seen,  is  of  that  excellent  disposi- 
tion, both  with  respect  to  loyalty  and  religion,  which  I 
should  have  expected,  were  I  to  judge  from  the  estim- 
able person  who  committed  him  to  my  care.' 

With  this  the  abbot  bowed  to  the  knight,  as  if  he  had 
conceived  that  this  repartee  gave  him  a  silencing  advan- 
tage in  any  question  which  could  follow  upon  that  sub- 
ject, and  he  was  probably  therefore  surprised  when  Sir 
Aymer  replied  as  follows:  — 

'It  is  very  true,  father  abbot,  that  I  myself  did  re- 
commend this  stripling  to  you  as  a  youth  of  a  harmless 
disposition,  and  with  respect  to  whom  it  would  be  unne- 
cessary to  exercise  the  strict  vigilance  extended  to  others 
in  similar  circumstances;  but  the  evidence  which  seemed 
to  me  to  vouch  for  this  young  man's  innocence  has  not 
appeared  so  satisfactory  to  my  superior  and  commander, 
and  it  is  by  his  orders  that  I  now  make  further  inquiries 
of  you.  You  must  think  they  are  of  consequence,  since 
we  again  trouble  you,  and  at  so  unwonted  an  hour.' 

*I  can  only  protest  by  my  order  and  by  the  veil  of  St. 
Bride,'  replied  the  abbot,  the  spirit  of  Celsus  appearing 
to  fail  his  pupil,  *  that  whatever  evil  may  be  in  this  mat- 
ter is  totally  unknown  to  me,  nor  could  it  be  extorted 
from  me  by  racks  or  implements  of  torture.  Whatever 
signs  of  disloyalty  may  have  been  evinced  by  this  young 
man,  I  have  witnessed  none  of  them,  although  I  have 
been  strictly  attentive  to  his  behaviour.' 

'In  what  respect?'  said  the  knight,  'and  what  is  the 
result  of  your  observation?' 

'My  answer,'  said  the  abbot  of  St.  Bride,  'shall  be 
sincere  and  downright.  The  youth  condescended  upon 
pa>Taent  of  a  certain  number  of  gold  crowns,  not  by  any 

158 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

means  to  repay  the  hospitality  of  the  church  of  St.  Bride, 
but  merely  — ' 

'Nay,  father,'  interrupted  the  knight,  'you  may  cut 
that  short,  since  the  governor  and  I  well  understand  the 
terms  upon  which  the  monks  of  St.  Bride  exercise  their 
hospitality.  In  what  manner,  it  is  more  necessary  to  ask, 
was  it  received  by  this  boy? ' 

'With  the  utmost  gentleness  and  moderation,  noble 
sir,'  answered  the  abbot.  'Indeed,  it  appeared  to  me  at 
first  that  he  might  be  a  troublesome  guest,  since  the 
amount  of  his  benevolence  to  the  convent  was  such  as 
to  encourage,  and  in  some  degree  to  authorise,  his  de- 
manding accommodation  of  a  kind  superior  to  what  we 
had  to  bestow.' 

'In  which  case,'  said  Sir  Aymer,  'you  would  have  had 
the  discomfort  of  returning  some  part  of  the  money  you 
had  received?' 

'That,'  replied  the  abbot,  'would  have  been  a  mode  of 
settlement  contrary  to  our  vows.  What  is  paid  to  the 
treasury  of  St.  Bridget  cannot,  agreeably  to  our  rule,  be 
on  any  account  restored.  But,  noble  knight,  there  was 
no  occasion  for  this :  a  crust  of  white  bread  and  a  draught 
of  milk  were  diet  sufficient  to  nourish  this  poor  youth  for 
a  day,  and  it  was  my  own  anxiety  for  his  health  that 
dictated  the  furnishing  of  his  cell  with  a  softer  bed  and 
coverlet  than  are  quite  consistent  with  the  rules  of  our 
order.' 

'Now  hearken  to  what  I  say,  sir  abbot,  and  answer  me 
truly,'  said  the  knight  of  Valence.  'What  communica- 
tion has  this  youth  held  with  the  inmates  of  your  con- 
vent, or  with  those  beyond  your  house?  Search  your 
memory  concerning  this,  and  let  me  have  a  distinct 

159 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

answer,  for  your  guest's  safety  and  your  own  depend 
upon  it.' 

*As  I  am  a  Christian  man,'  said  the  abbot,  *I  have 
observed  nothing  which  could  give  ground  for  your 
worship's  suspicions.  The  boy  Augustine,  unlike  those 
whom  I  have  observed  who  have  been  educated  in  the 
world,  showed  a  marked  preference  to  the  company  of 
such  sisters  as  the  house  of  St.  Bride  contains,  rather 
than  for  that  of  the  monks,  my  brethren,  although  there 
are  among  them  pleasant  and  conversible  men. 

'  Scandal,'  said  the  young  knight,  'might  find  a  reason 
for  that  preference.' 

'Not  in  the  case  of  the  sisters  of  St.  Bridget,'  said  the 
abbot,  'most  of  whom  have  been  either  sorely  misused 
by  time,  or  their  comeliness  destroyed  by  some  mishap 
previously  to  their  being  received  into  the  seclusion  of 
the  house.' 

This  observation  the  good  father  made  with  some 
internal  movement  of  mirth,  which  was  apparently 
excited  at  the  idea  of  the  sisterhood  of  St.  Bridget 
becoming  attractive  to  any  one  by  dint  of  their  personal 
beauty,  in  which,  as  it  happened,  they  were  all  notably, 
and  almost  ludicrously,  deficient.  The  English  knight, 
to  whom  the  sisterhood  were  well  known,  felt  also  in- 
clined to  smile  at  this  conversation. 

'I  acquit,'  he  said,  'the  pious  sisterhood  of  charming, 
otherwise  than  by  their  kind  wishes  and  attention  to  the 
wants  of  the  suffering  stranger.' 

'Sister  Beatrice,'  continued  the  father,  resuming  his 
gravity, '  is  indeed  blessed  with  a  winning  gift  of  making 
comfits  and  syllabubs;  but,  on  minute  inquiry,  I  do  not 
find  that  the  youth  has  tasted  any  of  them.   Neither  is 

1 60 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

sister  Ursula  so  hard-favoured  by  nature  as  from  the 
effects  of  an  accident;  but  your  honour  knows  that, 
when  a  woman  is  ugly,  the  men  do  not  trouble  themselves 
about  the  cause  of  her  hard  favour.  I  will  go,  with  your 
leave,  and  see  in  what  state  the  youth  now  is,  and  sum- 
mon him  before  you.' 

'I  request  you  to  do  so,  father,  for  the  affair  is  instant; 
and  I  earnestly  advise  you  to  watch,  in  the  closest  man- 
ner, this  Augustine's  behaviour:  you  cannot  be  too  par- 
ticular. I  will  wait  your  return,  and  either  carry  the  boy 
to  the  castle,  or  leave  him  here,  as  circumstances  may 
seem  to  require.' 

The  abbot  bowed,  promised  his  utmost  exertions,  and 
hobbled  out  of  the  room  to  wait  on  the  youth  Augustine 
in  his  cell,  anxious  to  favour,  if  possible,  the  wishes  of 
De  Valence,  whom  he  looked  upon  as  rendered  by  cir- 
cumstances his  military  patron. 

He  remained  long  absent,  and  Sir  Aymer  began  to  be 
of  opinion  that  the  delay  was  suspicious,  when  the  abbot 
returned  with  perplexity  and  discomposure  in  his  coun- 
tenance. 

'  I  crave  your  pardon  for  keeping  your  worship  wait- 
ing,' said  Jerome,  with  much  anxiety;  'but  I  have  my- 
self been  detained  and  vexed  by  unnecessary  formalities 
and  scruples  on  the  part  of  this  peevish  boy.  In  the  first 
place,  hearing  my  foot  approaching  his  bedroom,  my 
youth,  instead  of  undoing  the  door,  which  would  have 
been  but  proper  respect  to  my  place,  on  the  contrary 
draws  a  strong  bolt  on  the  inside;  and  this  fastening, 
forsooth,  has  been  placed  on  his  chamber  by  Ursula's 
command,  that  his  slumbers  might  be  suitably  respected. 
I  intimated  to  him  as  I  best  could  that  he  must  attend 
48  i6i 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

you  without  delay,  and  prepare  to  accompany  you  to 
the  Castle  of  Douglas;  but  he  would  not  answer  a  single 
word,  save  recommending  to  me  patience,  to  which  I 
was  fain  to  have  recourse,  as  well  as  your  archer,  whom 
I  found  standing  sentinel  before  the  door  of  the  cell,  and 
contenting  himself  with  the  assurance  of  the  sisters  that 
there  was  no  other  passage  by  which  Augustine  could 
make  his  escape.  At  length  the  door  opens,  and  my 
young  master  presents  himself  fully  arrayed  for  his  jour- 
ney. The  truth  is,  I  think  some  fresh  attack  of  his  mal- 
ady has  affected  the  youth :  he  may  perhaps  be  disturbed 
with  some  touch  of  hypochondria  or  black  choler  —  a 
species  of  dotage  of  the  mind  which  is  sometimes  found 
concomitant  with  and  symptomatic  of  this  disorder;  but 
he  is  at  present  composed,  and  if  your  worship  chooses 
to  see  him,  he  is  at  your  command.' 

'Call  him  hither,'  said  the  knight.  And  a  consider- 
able space  of  time  again  elapsed  ere  the  eloquence  of  the 
abbot,  half  chiding  and  half  soothing,  prevailed  on  the 
lady,  in  her  adopted  character,  to  approach  the  parlour, 
in  which  at  last  she  made  her  appearance,  with  a  coun- 
tenance on  which  the  marks  of  tears  might  still  be  dis- 
covered, and  a  pettish  sullenness,  like  that  of  a  boy,  or, 
with  reverence,  that  of  a  girl,  who  is  determined  upon 
taking  her  own  way  in  any  matter,  and  equally  resolved 
to  give  no  reason  for  her  doing  so.  Her  hurried  levee  had 
not  prevented  her  attending  closely  to  all  the  muflflings 
and  disguisings  by  which  her  pilgrim's  dress  was  arranged 
so  as  to  alter  her  appearance,  and  effectually  disguise 
her  sex.  But  as  civility  prevented  her  wearing  her  large 
slouched  hat,  she  necessarily  exposed  her  countenance 
more  than  in  the  open  air;  and  though  the  knight  beheld 

162 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

a  most  lovely  set  of  features,  yet  they  were  not  such  as 
were  inconsistent  with  the  character  she  had  adopted, 
and  which  she  had  resolved  upon  maintaining  to  the 
last.  She  had,  accordingly,  mustered  up  a  degree  of 
courage  which  was  not  natural  to  her,  and  which  she 
perhaps  supported  by  hopes  which  her  situation  hardly 
admitted.  So  soon  as  she  found  herself  in  the  same 
apartment  with  De  Valence,  she  assumed  a  style  of 
manners  bolder  and  more  determined  than  she  had 
hitherto  displayed. 

'Your  worship,'  she  said,  addressing  him  even  before 
he  spoke,  'is  a  knight  of  England,  and  possessed,  doubt- 
less, of  the  virtues  which  become  that  noble  station. 
I  am  an  unfortunate  lad,  obliged,  by  reasons  which  I  am 
under  the  necessity  of  keeping  secret,  to  travel  in  a 
dangerous  country,  where  I  am  suspected,  without  any 
just  cause,  of  becoming  accessary  to  plots  and  conspir- 
acies which  are  contrary  to  my  own  interest,  and  which 
my  very  soul  abhors,  and  which  I  might  safely  abjure, 
by  imprecating  upon  myself  all  the  curses  of  our  reli- 
gion and  renouncing  all  its  promises,  if  I  were  accessary 
to  such  designs  in  thought,  word,  or  deed.  Nevertheless, 
you,  who  will  not  believe  my  solemn  protestations,  are 
about  to  proceed  against  me  as  a  guilty  person,  and  in 
so  doing  I  must  warn  you,  sir  knight,  that  you  will 
commit  a  great  and  cruel  injustice.' 

'I  shall  endeavour  to  avoid  that,'  said  the  knight,  'by 
referring  the  duty  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  the  governor, 
who  will  decide  what  is  to  be  done;  in  this  case,  my  only 
duty  will  be  to  place  you  in  his  hands  at  Douglas 
Castle.' 

'Must  you  do  this?' said  Augustine. 

163 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'Certainly/  replied  the  knight,  'or  be  answerable  for 
neglecting  my  duty.' 

*But  if  I  become  bound  to  answer  your  loss  with  a 
large  sum  of  money,  a  large  tract  of  land  — ' 

*No  treasure,  no  land,  supposing  such  at  your  dis- 
posal.' answered  the  knight,  *  can  atone  for  disgrace;  and 
besides,  boy,  how  should  I  trust  to  your  warrant,  were 
my  avarice  such  as  would  induce  me  to  listen  to  such 
proposals? ' 

*I  must  then  prepare  to  attend  you  instantly  to  the 
Castle  of  Douglas  and  the  presence  of  Sir  John  de 
Walton?'  replied  Augustine. 

'Young  man,'  answered  De  Valence, ' there  is  no  rem- 
edy, since,  if  you  delay  me  longer,  I  must  carry  you 
thither  by  force.' 

'What  will  be  the  consequence  to  my  father?'  said  the 
youth. 

'That,'  replied  the  knight,  'will  depend  exactly  on  the 
nature  of  your  confession  and  his;  something  you  both 
have  to  say,  as  is  evident  from  the  terms  of  the  letter  Sir 
John  de  Walton  conveyed  to  you;  and  I  assure  you,  you 
were  better  to  speak  it  out  at  once  than  to  risk  the  con- 
sequences of  more  delay.  I  can  admit  of  no  more  trifling; 
and,  believe  me,  that  your  fate  will  be  entirely  ruled  by 
your  own  frankness  and  candour.' 

*I  must  prepare,  then,  to  travel  at  your  command,' 
said  the  youth.  '  But  this  cruel  disease  still  hangs  around 
me,  and  Abbot  Jerome,  whose  leechcraft  is  famous,  will 
himself  assure  you  that  I  cannot  travel  without  danger 
of  my  life;  and  that,  while  I  was  residing  in  this  convent, 
I  declined  every  opportunity  of  exercise  which  was 
offered  me  by  the  kindness  of  the  garrison  of  Hazelside, 

164 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

lest  I  might  by  mishap  bring  the  contagion  among  your 
men.' 

'The  youth  says  right/  said  the  abbot:  'the  archers 
and  men-at-arms  have  more  than  once  sent  to  invite  this 
lad  to  join  in  some  of  their  military  games,  or  to  amuse 
them,  perhaps,  with  some  of  his  minstrelsy;  but  he  has 
uniformly  declined  doing  so;  and,  according  to  my 
belief,  it  is  the  effects  of  this  disorder  which  have  pre- 
vented his  accepting  an  indulgence  so  natural  to  his  age, 
and  in  so  dull  a  place  as  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  must 
needs  seem  to  a  youth  bred  up  in  the  world.' 

'Do  you  then  hold,  reverend  father,'  said  Sir  Aymer, 
*that  there  is  real  danger  in  carrying  this  youth  to  the 
castle  to-night,  as  I  proposed?' 

'I  conceive  such  danger,'  replied  the  abbot,  'to  exist, 
not  only  as  it  may  occasion  the  relapse  of  the  poor  youth 
himself,  but  as  particularly  likely,  no  preparations  hav- 
ing been  made,  to  introduce  the  infection  among  your 
honourable  garrison;  for  it  is  in  these  relapses,  more  than 
in  the  first  violence  of  the  malady,  that  it  has  been  found 
most  contagious.' 

'Then,'  said  the  knight,  'you  must  be  content,  my 
friend,  to  give  a  share  of  your  room  to  an  archer,  by  way 
of  sentinel.' 

'I  cannot  object,'  said  Augustine,  'provided  my  un- 
fortunate vicinity  does  not  endanger  the  health  of  the 
poor  soldier.' 

'He  will  be  as  ready  to  do  his  duty,'  said  the  abbot, 
'without  the  door  of  the  apartment  as  within  it;  and  if 
the  youth  should  sleep  soundly,  which  the  presence  of  a 
guard  in  his  chamber  might  prevent,  he  is  the  more 
likely  to  answer  your  purpose  on  the  morrow.' 

165 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'Let  it  be  so/  said  Sir  Aymer,  'so  you  are  sure  that 
you  do  not  minister  any  facility  of  escape.' 

*The  apartment/  said  the  monk,  'hath  no  other  en- 
trance than  that  which  is  guarded  by  the  archer;  but 
to  content  you  I  shall  secure  the  door  in  your  presence.' 

' So  be  it,  then,'  said  the  knight  of  Valence;  'this  done, 
I  myself  will  Ue  down  without  doffing  my  mail-shirt,  and 
snatch  a  sleep  till  the  ruddy  dawn  calls  me  again  to 
duty,  when  you,  Augustine,  will  hold  yourself  ready  to 
attend  me  to  our  Castle  of  Douglas.' 

The  bells  of  the  convent  summoned  the  inhabitants 
and  inmates  of  St.  Bride  to  morning  prayers  at  the  first 
peep  of  day.  When  this  duty  was  over,  the  knight 
demanded  his  prisoner.  The  abbot  marshalled  him  to 
the  door  of  Augustine's  chamber.  The  sentinel  who 
was  stationed  there,  armed  with  a  brown-bill,  or  species 
of  partizan,  reported  that  he  had  heard  no  motion  in  the 
apartment  during  the  whole  night.  The  abbot  tapped 
at  the  door,  but  received  no  answer.  He  knocked  again 
louder,  but  the  silence  was  unbroken  from  within. 

'What  means  this?'  said  the  reverend  ruler  of  the 
convent  of  St.  Bride;  'my  young  patient  has  certainly 
fallen  into  a  syncope  or  swoon ! ' 

'I  wish,  father  abbot,'  said  the  knight,  'that  he  may 
not  have  made  his  escape  instead  —  an  accident  which 
both  you  and  I  may  be  required  to  answer,  since,  accord- 
ing to  our  strict  duty,  we  ought  to  have  kept  sight  of 
him,  and  detained  him  in  close  custody  until  daybreak.' 

'I  trust  your  worship,'  said  the  abbot,  'only  anti- 
cipates a  misfortune  which  I  cannot  think  possible.' 

'We  shall  speedily  see,'  said  the  knight;  and,  raising 
his  voice,  he  called  aloud,  so  as  to  be  heard  within, 

1 66 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'Bring  crowbars  and  levers,  and  burst  me  that  door  into 
splinters  without  an  instant's  delay!' 

The  loudness  of  his  voice,  and  the  stern  tone  in  which 
he  spoke,  soon  brought  around  him  the  brethren  of  the 
house,  and  two  or  three  soldiers  of  his  own  party,  who 
were  already  busy  in  caparisoning  their  horses.  The  dis- 
pleasure of  the  young  knight  was  manifested  by  his 
flushed  features  and  the  abrupt  manner  in  which  he 
again  repeated  his  commands  for  breaking  open  the 
door.  This  was  speedily  performed,  though  it  required 
the  application  of  considerable  strength,  and  as  the 
shattered  remains  fell  crashing  into  the  apartment,  De 
Valence  sprung,  and  the  abbot  hobbled,  into  the  cell  of 
the  prisoner,  which,  to  the  fulfilment  of  their  worst  sus- 
picions, they  found  empty. 


CHAPTER  XI 

Where  is  he?  Has  the  deep  earth  swallow'd  him? 

Or  hath  he  melted  like  some  airy  phantom 

That  shuns  the  approach  of  morn  and  the  young  sun? 

Or  hath  he  wrapt  him  in  Cimmerian  darkness. 

And  pass'd  beyond  the  circuit  of  the  sight 

With  things  of  the  night's  shadows? 

Anonymous 

The  disappearance  of  the  youth,  whose  disguise  and 
whose  fate  have,  we  hope,  inclined  our  readers  to  take 
some  interest  in  him,  will  require  some  explanation  ere 
we  proceed  with  the  other  personages  of  the  story,  and 
we  shall  set  about  giving  it  accordingly. 

When  Augustine  was  consigned  to  his  cell  for  the 
second  time  on  the  preceding  evening,  both  the  monk 
and  the  young  knight  of  Valence  had  seen  the  key 
turned  upon  him,  and  had  heard  him  secure  the  door  on 
the  inside  wath  the  bolt  which  had  been  put  on  at  his 
request  by  Sister  Ursula,  in  whose  affections  the  youth 
of  Augustine,  his  extreme  handsomeness,  and,  above  all, 
his  indisposition  of  body  and  his  melancholy  of  mind, 
had  gained  him  considerable  interest. 

So  soon,  accordingly,  as  Augustine  re-entered  his 
apartment,  he  was  greeted  in  a  whisper  by  the  sister, 
who,  during  the  interval  of  his  absence,  had  contrived  to 
slip  into  the  cell,  and  having  tappiced  herself  behind  the 
little  bed,  came  out,  with  great  appearance  of  joy,  to 
greet  the  return  of  the  youth.  The  number  of  Uttle 
attentions,  the  disposal  of  holly  boughs  and  such  other 
evergreens  as  the  season  permitted,  showed  the  anxiety 

i68 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

of  the  holy  sister  to  decorate  the  chamber  of  theil 
guest,  and  the  greetings  of  Sister  Ursula  expressed  the 
same  friendly  interest,  at  the  same  time  intimating  that 
she  was  already  in  some  degree  in  possession  of  the 
stranger's  mystery. 

As  Augustine  and  the  holy  sister  were  busied  in 
exchange  of  confidence,  the  extraordinary  difference 
between  their  countenances  and  their  persons  must  have 
struck  any  one  who  might  have  been  accidentally  a 
witness  of  their  interview.  The  dark  pilgrim's  robe  of  the 
disguised  female  was  not  a  stronger  contrast  to  the  white 
woollen  garment  worn  by  the  votaress  of  St.  Bride  than 
the  visage  of  the  nun,  seamed  with  many  a  ghastly  scar, 
and  the  light  of  one  of  her  eyes  extinguished  for  ever, 
causing  it  to  roll  a  sightless  luminary  in  her  head,  was  to 
the  beautiful  countenance  of  Augustine,  now  bent  with 
a  confidential,  and  even  affectionate,  look  upon  the 
extraordinary  features  of  her  companion. 

'You  know,'  said  the  supposed  Augustine,  'the  prin- 
cipal part  of  my  story;  can  you,  or  will  you,  lend  me 
your  assistance?  If  not,  my  dearest  sister,  you  must  con- 
sent to  witness  my  death,  rather  than  my  shame.  Yes, 
Sister  Ursula,  I  will  not  be  pointed  at  by  the  finger  of 
scorn,  as  the  thoughtless  maiden  who  sacrificed  so  much 
for  a  young  man  of  whose  attachment  she  was  not  so 
well  assured  as  she  ought  to  have  been.  I  will  not  be 
dragged  before  De  Walton,  for  the  purpose  of  being 
compelled,  by  threats  of  torture,  to  declare  myself  the 
female  in  honour  of  whom  he  holds  the  Dangerous 
Castle.  No  doubt  he  might  be  glad  to  give  his  hand  in 
wedlock  to  a  damsel  whose  dowry  is  so  ample ;  but  who 
can  tell  whether  he  will  regard  me  with  that  respect 

169 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

which  every  woman  would  wish  to  command,  or  pardon 
that  boldness  of  which  I  have  been  guilty,  even  though 
its  consequences  have  been  in  his  own  favour? ' 

'Nay,  my  darling  daughter,'  answered  the  nun,  'com- 
fort yourself;  for  in  all  I  can  aid  you,  be  assured  I  will. 
My  means  are  somewhat  more  than  my  present  situa- 
tion may  express,  and  be  assured  they  shall  be  tried  to 
the  uttermost.  Methinks  I  still  hear  that  lay  which  you 
sung  to  the  other  sisters  and  myself,  although  I  alone, 
touched  by  feelings  kindred  to  yours,  had  the  address  to 
comprehend  that  it  told  your  own  tale.' 

'  I  am  yet  surprised,'  said  Augustine,  speaking  beneath 
her  breath,  'how  I  had  the  boldness  to  sing  in  your  ears 
the  lay  which,  in  fact,  was  the  history  of  my  disgrace.' 

'Alas!  that  you  will  say  so,'  returned  the  nun;  'there 
was  not  a  word  but  what  resembled  those  tales  of  love 
and  of  high-spirited  daring  which  the  best  minstrels  love 
to  celebrate,  and  the  noblest  knights  and  maidens  weep 
at  once  and  smile  to  hear.  The  Lady  Augusta  of 
Berkely,  a  great  heiress,  according  to  the  world,  both  in 
land  and  movable  goods,  becomes  the  king's  ward  by 
the  death  of  her  parents;  and  thus  is  on  the  point  of 
being  given  away  in  marriage  to  a  minion  of  the  King 
of  England,  whom  in  these  Scottish  valleys  we  scruple 
not  to  call  a  peremptory  tyrant.' 

'I  must  not  say  so,  my  sister,'  said  the  pilgrim;  'and 
yet,  true  it  is  that  the  cousin  of  the  obscure  parasite 
Gaveston,  on  whom  the  King  wished  to  confer  my  poor 
hand,  was  neither  by  birth,  merit,  nor  circumstance 
worthy  of  such  an  alliance.  Meantime  I  heard  of  the 
fame  of  Sir  John  de  Walton ;  and  I  heard  of  it  not  with 
the  less  interest  that  his  feats  of  chivalry  were  said  to 

170 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

adorn  a  knight  who,  rich  in  everything  else,  was  poor  in 
worldly  goods  and  in  the  smiles  of  fortune.  I  saw  this 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  I  acknowledge  that  a  thought, 
which  had  already  intruded  itself  on  my  imagination, 
became  after  this  interview,  by  frequent  recurrence, 
more  familiar  and  more  welcome  to  me.  Methought 
that  the  daughter  of  a  powerful  English  family,  if  she 
could  give  away  with  her  hand  such  wealth  as  the  world 
spoke  of,  would  more  justly  and  honourably  bestow  it  in 
remedying  the  errors  of  fortune  in  regard  to  a  gallant 
knight  like  De  Walton  than  in  patching  the  revenues  of 
a  beggarly  Frenchman,  whose  only  merit  was  in  being 
the  kinsman  of  a  man  who  was  very  generally  destested 
by  the  whole  kingdom  of  England,  excepting  the  infatu- 
ated monarch  himself.' 

'Nobly  designed,  my  daughter,'  said  the  nun;  'what 
more  worthy  of  a  noble  heart,  possessing  riches,  beauty, 
birth,  and  rank,  than  to  confer  them  all  upon  indigent 
and  chivalrous  merit? ' 

'Such,  dearest  sister,  was  my  intention,'  replied 
Augustine;  'but  I  have,  perhaps,  scarce  sufficiently 
explained  the  manner  in  which  I  meant  to  proceed.  By 
the  advice  of  the  minstrel  of  our  house,  the  same  who  is 
now  prisoner  at  Douglas,  I  caused  exhibit  a  large  feast 
upon  Christmas  eve,  and  sent  invitations  abroad  to 
the  young  knights  of  noble  name  who  were  known  to 
spend  their  leisure  in  quest  of  arms  and  adventures. 
When  the  tables  were  drawn  and  the  feast  concluded, 
Bertram,  as  had  been  before  devised,  was  called  upon  to 
take  his  harp.  He  sung,  receiving  from  all  who  were 
present  the  attention  due  to  a  minstrel  of  so  much  fame. 
The  theme  which  he  chose  was  the  frequent  capture  of 

171 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

this  Douglas  Castle,  or,  as  the  poet  termed  it,  Castle 
Dangerous.  "Where  are  the  champions  of  the  renowned 
Edward  the  First,"  said  the  minstrel,  "when  the  realm 
of  England  cannot  furnish  a  man  brave  enough,  or  suf- 
ficiently expert  in  the  wars,  to  defend  a  miserable  ham- 
let of  the  North  against  the  Scottish  rebels,  who  have 
vowed  to  retake  it  over  our  soldiers'  heads  ere  the  year 
rolls  to  an  end?  Where  are  the  noble  ladies  whose  smiles 
used  to  give  countenance  to  the  knights  of  St.  George 's 
cross?  Alas!  the  spirit  of  love  and  of  chivalry  is  alike 
dead  amongst  us :  our  knights  are  limited  to  petty  enter- 
prises, and  our  noblest  heiresses  are  given  as  prizes  to 
strangers,  as  if  their  own  country  had  no  one  to  deserve 
them."  Here  stopt  the  harp;  and  I  shame  to  say  that  I 
myself,  as  if  moved  to  enthusiasm  by  the  song  of  the 
minstrel,  arose,  and  taking  from  my  neck  the  chain  of 
gold  which  supported  a  crucifix  of  special  sanctity,  I 
made  my  vow,  always  under  the  King's  permission,  that 
I  would  give  my  hand,  and  the  inheritance  of  my 
fathers,  to  the  good  knight,  being  of  noble  birth  and 
lineage,  who  should  keep  the  Castle  of  Douglas  in  the 
King  of  England's  name  for  a  year  and  a  day.  I  sat 
down,  my  dearest  sister,  deafened  with  the  jubliee  in 
which  my  guests  expressed  their  applause  of  my  sup- 
posed patriotism.  Yet  some  degree  of  pause  took  place 
amidst  the  young  knights,  who  might  reasonably  have 
been  supposed  ready  to  embrace  this  offer,  although  at 
the  risk  of  being  encumbered  with  Augusta  of  Berkely.' 
'Shame  on  the  man,'  said  Sister  Ursula,  'who  should 
think  so?  Put  your  beauty  alone,  my  dearest,  into 
consideration,  and  a  true  knight  ought  to  have  embraced 
the  dangers  of  twenty  Castles  of  Douglas,  rather  than 

172 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

let  such  an  invaluable  opportunity  of  gaining  your 
favour  be  lost.' 

*It  may  be  that  some  in  reality  thought  so,'  said  the 
pilgrim;  'but  it  was  supposed  that  the  King's  favour 
might  be  lost  by  those  who  seemed  too  anxious  to  thwart 
his  royal  purpose  upon  his  ward's  hand.  At  any  rate, 
greatly  to  my  joy,  the  only  person  who  availed  himself 
of  the  offer  I  had  made  was  Sir  John  de  Walton;  and  as 
his  acceptance  of  it  was  guarded  by  a  clause,  saving  and 
reserving  the  King's  approbation,  I  hope  he  has  not 
suffered  any  diminution  of  Edward's  favour.' 

'Assure  yourself,  noble  and  high-spirited  young  lady,' 
replied  the  nun,  'that  there  is  no  fear  of  thy  generous 
devotion  hurting  thy  lover  with  the  King  of  England. 
Something  we  hear  concerning  worldly  passages,  even  in 
this  remote  nook  of  St.  Bride's  cloister,  and  the  report 
goes  among  the  English  soldiers  that  their  king  was 
indeed  offended  at  your  putting  your  will  in  opposition 
to  his  own;  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  this  preferred  lover, 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  was  a  man  of  such  extensive  fame, 
and  your  offer  was  so  much  in  the  character  of  better 
but  not  forgotten  times,  that  even  a  king  could  not  at 
the  beginning  of  a  long  and  stubborn  war  deprive  an 
errant  cavalier  of  his  bride,  if  she  should  be  duly  won  by 
his  sword  and  lance.' 

*Ah!  dearest  Sister  Ursula!'  sighed  the  disguised  pil- 
grim, 'but,  on  the  other  hand,  how  much  time  must 
pass  by  in  the  siege  by  defeating  which  that  suit  must 
needs  be  advanced  ?  While  I  sat  in  my  lonely  castle, 
tidings  after  tidings  came  to  astound  me  with  the  numer- 
ous, or  rather  the  constant,  dangers  with  which  my  lover 
was  surrounded,  until  at  length,  in  a  moment,  I  think,  of 

173 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

madness,  I  resolved  to  set  out  in  this  masculine  dis- 
guise; and  having  myself  with  my  own  eyes  seen  in  what 
situation  I  had  placed  my  knight,  I  determined  to  take 
such  measures  in  respect  to  shortening  the  term  of  his 
trial,  or  otherwise,  as  a  sight  of  Douglas  Castle,  and  — 
why  should  I  deny  it?  —  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  might 
suggest.  Perhaps  you,  my  dearest  sister,  may  not  so 
well  understand  my  being  tempted  into  flinching  from 
the  resolution  which  I  had  laid  down  for  my  own  honour 
and  that  of  my  lover;  but  consider  that  my  resolution 
was  the  consequence  of  a  moment  of  excitation,  and 
that  the  course  which  I  adopted  was  the  conclusion  of 
a  long,  wasting,  sickening  state  of  uncertainty,  the  ef- 
fect of  which  was  to  weaken  the  nerves  which  were  once 
highly  strung  with  love  of  my  country,  as  I  thought;  but 
in  reality,  alas!  with  fond  and  anxious  feelings  of  a  more 
selfish  description.' 

'Alas!'  said  Sister  Ursula,  evincing  the  strongest 
symptoms  of  interest  and  compassion,  'am  I  the  person, 
dearest  child,  whom  you  suspect  of  insensibility  to  the 
distresses  which  are  the  fruit  of  true  love?  Do  you  sup- 
pose that  the  air  which  is  breathed  within  these  walls 
has  the  property,  upon  the  female  heart,  of  such  mar- 
vellous fountains  as  they  say  change  into  stone  the  sub- 
stances which  are  immersed  into  their  waters?  Hear  my 
tale,  and  judge  if  it  can  be  thus  with  one  who  possesses 
my  causes  of  grief.  And  do  not  fear  for  loss  of  time:  we 
must  let  our  neighbours  at  Hazelside  be  settled  for  the 
evening  ere  I  furnish  you  with  the  means  of  escape ;  and 
you  must  have  a  trusty  guide,  for  whose  fidelity  I  will 
be  responsible,  to  direct  your  path  through  these  woods, 
and  protect  you  in  case  of  any  danger,  too  likely  to  oc- 

174 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

cur  in  these  troublesome  times.  It  will  thus  be  nigh  an 
hour  ere  you  depart;  and  sure  I  am  that  in  no  manner 
can  you  spend  the  time  better  than  in  listening  to  dis- 
tresses too  similar  to  your  own,  and  flowing  from  the 
source  of  disappointed  affection  which  you  must  needs 
sympathise  with.' 

The  distresses  of  the  Lady  Augusta  did  not  prevent 
her  being  in  some  degree  affected  almost  ludicrously 
with  the  singular  contrast  between  the  hideous  counte- 
nance of  this  victim  of  the  tender  passion  and  the  cause 
to  which  she  imputed  her  sorrows;  but  it  was  not  a  mo- 
ment for  giving  way  to  a  sense  of  the  ridiculous,  which 
would  have  been  in  the  highest  degree  offensive  to  the 
sister  of  St.  Bride,  whose  goodwill  she  had  so  many  rea- 
sons to  conciliate.  She  readily,  therefore,  succeeded  in 
preparing  herself  to  Hsten  to  the  votary  with  an  appear- 
ance of  sympathy,  which  might  reward  that  which  she 
had  herself  experienced  at  the  hands  of  Sister  Ursula; 
while  the  unfortunate  recluse,  with  an  agitation  which 
made  her  ugliness  still  more  conspicuous,  narrated, 
nearly  in  a  whisper,  the  following  circumstances :  — 

*  My  misfortunes  commenced  long  before  I  was  called 
Sister  Ursula,  or  secluded  as  a  votaress  within  these 
walls.  My  father  was  a  noble  Norman,  who,  like  many 
of  his  countrymen,  sought  and  found  fortune  at  the  court 
of  the  King  of  Scotland.  He  was  endowed  with  the 
sheriffdom  of  this  county,  and  Maurice  de  Hatteley,  or 
HautUeu,  was  numbered  among  the  wealthy  and  power- 
ful barons  of  Scotland.  Wherefore  should  I  deny  it,  that 
the  daughter  of  this  baron,  then  called  Margaret  de 
Hautlieu,  was  also  distinguished  among  the  great  and 
fair  of  the  land?   It  can  be  no  censurable  vanity  which 

175 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

provokes  me  to  speak  the  truth,  and  unless  I  tell  it  my- 
self, you  could  hardly  suspect  what  a  resemblance  I  once 
bore  even  to  the  lovely  Lady  Augusta  of  Berkely.  About 
this  time  broke  out  those  unfortunate  feuds  of  Bruce  and 
BaHol  which  have  been  so  long  the  curse  of  this  country. 
My  father,  determined  in  his  choice  of  party  by  the  argu- 
ments of  his  wealthy  kinsmen  at  the  court  of  Edward, 
embraced  with  passion  the  faction  of  the  English  interest, 
and  became  one  of  the  keenest  partizans,  at  first  of  John 
BaHol,  and  afterwards  of  the  EngHsh  monarch.  None 
among  the  Anglicised  Scottish,  as  his  party  was  called, 
were  so  zealous  as  he  for  the  red  cross,  and  no  one  was 
more  detested  by  his  countrymen  who  followed  the  na- 
tional standard  of  St.  Andrew  and  the  patriot  Wallace. 
Among  those  soldiers  of  the  soil,  Malcolm  Fleming  of 
Biggar  was  one  of  the  most  distinguished  by  his  noble 
birth,  his  high  acquirements,  and  his  fame  in  chivalry. 
I  saw  him;  and  the  ghastly  spectre  who  now  addresses 
you  must  not  be  ashamed  to  say  that  she  loved,  and  was 
beloved  by,  one  of  the  handsomest  youths  in  Scotland. 
Our  attachment  was  discovered  to  my  father  almost  ere 
we  had  owned  it  to  each  other,  and  he  was  furious  both 
against  my  lover  and  myself;  he  placed  me  under  the 
charge  of  a  religious  woman  of  this  rule,  and  I  was  im- 
mured within  the  house  of  St.  Bride,  where  my  father 
shamed  not  to  announce  he  would  cause  me  to  take  the 
veil  by  force,  unless  I  agreed  to  wed  a  youth  bred  at  the 
English  court,  his  nephew;  and,  as  Heaven  had  granted 
him  no  son,  the  heir,  as  he  had  resolved,  of  the  house  of 
Hautlieu.  I  was  not  long  in  making  my  election.  I  pro- 
tested that  death  should  be  my  choice,  rather  than  any 
other  husband  excepting  Malcolm  Fleming.  Neither 

176 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

was  my  lover  less  faithful:  he  found  means  to  communi- 
cate to  me  a  particular  night  on  which  he  proposed  to 
attempt  to  storm  the  nunnery  of  St.  Bride,  and  carry 
me  from  hence  to  freedom  and  the  greenwood,  of  which 
Wallace  was  generally  called  the  king.  In  an  evil  hour 
— an  hour,  I  think,  of  infatuation  and  witchery —  I  suf- 
fered the  abbess  to  wheedle  the  secret  out  of  me,  which 
I  might  have  been  sensible  would  appear  more  horribly 
flagitious  to  her  than  to  any  other  woman  that  breathed; 
but  I  had  not  taken  the  vows,  and  I  thought  Wallace 
and  Fleming  had  the  same  charms  for  everybody  as  for 
me,  and  the  artful  woman  gave  me  reason  to  believe  that 
her  loyalty  to  Bruce  was  without  a  flaw  of  suspicion,  and 
she  took  part  in  a  plot  of  which  my  freedom  was  the 
object.  The  abbess  engaged  to  have  the  English  guards 
removed  to  a  distance,  and  in  appearance  the  troops 
were  withdrawn.  Accordingly,  in  the  middle  of  the 
night  appointed,  the  window  of  my  cell,  which  was  two 
stories  from  the  ground,  was  opened  without  noise;  and 
never  were  my  eyes  more  gladdened  than,  as  ready  dis- 
guised and  arrayed  for  flight,  even  in  a  horseman's  dress, 
like  yourself,  fairest  Lady  Augusta,  I  saw  Malcolm  Flem- 
ing spring  into  the  apartment.  He  rushed  towards  me; 
but  at  the  same  time  my  father  with  ten  of  his  strongest 
men  filled  the  room,  and  cried  their  war-cry  of  "Baliol." 
Blows  were  instantly  dealt  on  every  side.  A  form  like  a 
giant,  however,  appeared  in  the  midst  of  the  tumult,  and 
distinguished  himself,  even  to  my  half -giddy  eye,  by  the 
ease  with  which  he  bore  down  and  dispersed  those  who 
fought  against  our  freedom.  My  father  alone  offered 
an  opposition  which  threatened  to  prove  fatal  to  him; 
for  Wallace,  it  was  said,  could  foil  any  two  martial  cham- 

45  177 


I 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

pions  that  ever  drew  sword.  Brushing  from  him  the 
armed  men,  as  a  lady  would  drive  away  with  her  fan  a 
swarm  of  troublesome  flies,  he  secured  me  in  one  arm, 
used  his  other  for  our  mutual  protection,  and  I  found 
myself  in  the  act  of  being  borne  in  safety  down  the  ladder 
by  which  my  deliverers  had  ascended  from  without;  but 
an  evil  fate  awaited  this  attempt. 

'My  father,  whom  the  Champion  of  Scotland  had 
spared  for  my  sake,  or  rather  for  Fleming's,  gained  by 
his  victor's  compassion  and  lenity  a  fearful  advantage, 
and  made  a  remorseless  use  of  it.  Having  only  his  left 
hand  to  oppose  to  the  maniac  attempts  of  my  father, 
even  the  strength  of  Wallace  could  not  prevent  the  assail- 
ant, with  all  the  energy  of  desperation,  from  throwing 
down  the  ladder,  on  which  his  daughter  was  perched  like 
a  dove  in  the  grasp  of  an  eagle.  The  Champion  saw  our 
danger,  and,  exerting  his  inimitable  strength  and  agility, 
cleared  himself  and  me  from  the  ladder,  and  leaped  free 
of  the  moat  of  the  convent,  into  which  we  must  other- 
wise have  been  precipitated.  The  Champion  of  Scotland 
was  saved  in  the  desperate  attempt,  but  I,  who  fell 
among  a  heap  of  stones  and  rubbish  —  I,  the  disobe- 
dient daughter,  wellnigh  the  apostate  vestal  —  waked 
only  from  a  long  bed  of  sickness  to  find  myself  the  dis- 
figured wretch  which  you  now  see  me.  I  then  learned 
that  Malcolm  had  escaped  from  the  fray,  and  shortly 
after  I  heard,  with  feelings  less  keen,  perhaps,  than  they 
ought  to  have  been,  that  my  father  was  slain  in  one  of 
the  endless  battles  which  took  place  between  the  con- 
tending factions.  If  he  had  Hved,  I  might  have  sub- 
mitted to  the  completion  of  my  fate ;  but  since  he  was  no 
more,  I  felt  that  it  would  be  a  preferable  lot  to  be  a  beg- 

178 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

gar  in  the  streets  of  a  Scottish  village  than  an  abbess  in 
this  miserable  house  of  St.  Bride;  nor  was  even  that  poor 
object  of  ambition,  on  which  my  father  used  to  expatiate 
when  desirous  of  persuading  me  to  enter  the  monastic 
state,  by  milder  means  than  throwing  me  off  the  battle- 
ments, long  open  to  me.  The  old  abbess  died  of  a  cold 
caught  the  evening  of  the  fray;  and  the  place,  which 
might  have  been  kept  open  until  I  was  capable  of  filHng 
it,  was  disposed  of  otherwise,  when  the  English  thought 
fit  to  reform,  as  they  termed  it,  the  discipline  of  the  house ; 
and,  instead  of  electing  a  new  abbess,  sent  hither  two  or 
three  friendly  monks,  who  have  now  the  absolute  gov- 
ernment of  the  community,  and  wield  it  entirely  accord- 
ing to  the  pleasure  of  the  English.  But  I,  for  one,  who 
have  had  the  honour  to  be  supported  by  the  arms  of  the 
Champion  of  my  country,  will  not  remain  here  to  be 
commanded  by  this  Abbot  Jerome.  I  will  go  forth,  nor 
do  I  fear  to  find  relations  and  friends  who  will  provide  a 
more  fitting  place  of  refuge  for  Margaret  de  Hautlieu 
than  the  convent  of  St.  Bride;  you,  too,  dearest  lady, 
shall  obtain  your  freedom,  and  it  will  be  well  to  leave 
such  information  as  will  make  Sir  John  de  Walton  aware 
of  the  devotion  with  which  his  happy  fate  has  inspired 
you.' 

*It  is  not,  then,  your  own  intention,'  said  the  Lady 
Augusta,  'to  return  into  the  world  again,  and  you  are 
about  to  renounce  the  lover  in  a  union  with  whom  you 
and  he  once  saw  your  Joint  happiness? ' 

*  It  is  a  question,  my  dearest  child,'  said  Sister  Ursula, 
*  which  I  dare  not  ask  myself,  and  to  which  I  am  abso- 
lutely uncertain  what  answer  I  should  return.  I  have 
not  taken  the  final  and  irrevocable  vows:  I  have  done 

179 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nothing  to  alter  my  situation  with  regard  to  Malcolm 
Fleming.  He  also,  by  the  vows  plighted  in  the  chancery 
of  Heaven,  is  my  afhanced  bridegroom,  nor  am  I  con- 
scious that  I  less  deserve  his  faith  in  any  respect  now 
than  at  the  moment  when  it  was  pledged  to  me ;  but  I 
confess,  dearest  lady,  that  rumours  have  reached  me 
which  sting  me  to  the  quick :  the  reports  of  my  wounds 
and  scars  are  said  to  have  estranged  the  knight  of  my 
choice.  I  am  now  indeed  poor,'  she  added,  with  a  sigh, 
*  and  I  am  no  longer  possessed  of  those  personal  charms 
which  they  say  attract  the  love  and  fix  the  fidelity  of  the 
other  sex.  I  teach  myself,  therefore,  to  think,  in  my 
moments  of  settled  resolution,  that  all  betwixt  me  and 
Malcolm  Fleming  is  at  an  end,  saving  good  wishes  on  the 
part  of  both  towards  the  other;  and  yet  there  is  a  sensa- 
tion in  my  bosom  which  whispers,  in  spite  of  my  reason, 
that,  if  I  absolutely  believed  that  which  I  now  say,  there 
would  be  no  object  on  earth  worthy  my  living  for  in 
order  to  attain  it.  This  insinuating  prepossession  whis- 
pers to  my  secret  soul,  and  in  very  opposition  to  my  rea- 
son and  understanding,  that  Malcolm  Fleming,  who 
could  pledge  his  all  upon  the  service  of  his  country,  is 
incapable  of  nourishing  the  versatile  affection  of  an  ordi- 
nary, a  coarse,  or  a  venal  character.  Methinks,  were  the 
difference  upon  his  part  instead  of  mine,  he  would  not 
lose  his  interest  in  my  eyes  because  he  was  seamed  with 
honourable  scars,  obtained  in  asserting  the  freedom  of 
his  choice,  but  that  such  wounds  would,  in  my  opinion, 
add  to  his  merit,  whatever  they  took  away  from  his  per- 
sonal comeliness.  Ideas  rise  on  my  soul,  as  if  Malcolm 
and  Margaret  might  yet  be  to  each  other  all  that  their 
affections  once  anticipated  with  so  much  security,  and 

1 80 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

that  a  change  which  took  nothing  from  the  honour  and 
virtue  of  the  beloved  person  must  rather  add  to  than 
diminish  the  charms  of  the  union.  Look  at  me,  dearest 
Lady  Augusta  —  look  me,  if  you  have  courage,  full  in 
the  face,  and  tell  me  whether  I  do  not  rave  when  my 
fancy  is  thus  converting  mere  possibilities  into  that 
which  is  natural  and  probable.' 

The  Lady  of  Berkely,  conscious  of  the  necessity,  raised 
her  eyes  on  the  unfortunate  nun,  afraid  of  losing  her 
own  chance  of  dehverance  by  the  mode  in  which  she 
should  conduct  herself  in  this  crisis,  yet  not  willing  at 
the  same  time  to  flatter  the  unfortunate  Ursula  with 
suggesting  ideas  for  which  her  own  sense  told  her  she 
could  hardly  find  any  rational  grounds.  But  her  imag- 
ination, stored  with  the  minstrelsy  of  the  time,  brought 
back  to  her  recollection  the  Loathly  Lady  in  '  The  Mar- 
riage of  Sir  Gawain,'  and  she  conducted  her  reply  in  the 
following  manner :  — 

'You  ask  me,  my  dear  Lady  Margaret,  a  tr3dng  ques- 
tion, which  it  would  be  unfriendly  to  answer  otherwise 
than  sincerely,  and  most  cruel  to  answer  with  too  much 
rashness.  It  is  true,  that  what  is  called  beauty  is  the 
first  quality  on  which  we  of  the  weaker  sex  learn  to  set  a 
value:  we  are  flattered  by  the  imputation  of  personal 
charms,  whether  we  actually  possess  them  or  not;  and 
no  doubt  we  learn  to  place  upon  them  a  great  deal  more 
consequence  than  in  reality  is  found  to  belong  to  them. 
Women,  however,  even  such  as  are  held  by  their  own  sex, 
and  perhaps  in  secret  by  themselves,  as  devoid  of  all  pre- 
tensions to  beauty,  have  been  known  to  become,  from 
their  understanding,  their  talents,  or  their  accomplish- 
ments, the  undoubted  objects  of  the  warmest  attach- 

i8i 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ment.  Wherefore,  then,  should  you,  in  the  mere  rash- 
ness of  your  apprehension,  deem  it  impossible  that  your 
Malcolm  Fleming  should  be  made  of  that  porcelain  clay 
of  the  earth  which  despises  the  passing  captivations  of 
outward  form,  in  comparison  to  the  charms  of  true  affec- 
tion and  the  excellence  of  talents  and  virtue?' 

The  nun  pressed  her  companion's  hand  to  her  bosom, 
and  answered  with  a  deep  sigh. 

'I  fear,'  she  said,  'you  flatter  me;  and  yet,  in  a  crisis 
like  this,  it  does  one  good  to  be  flattered,  even  as  cor- 
dials, otherwise  dangerous  to  the  constitution,  are  wisely 
given  to  support  a  patient  through  a  paroxysm  of  agony, 
and  enable  him  to  endure  at  least  what  they  cannot  cure. 
Answer  only  one  question,  and  it  will  be  time  we  drop 
this  conversation.  Could  you,  sweet  lady  —  you  upon 
whom  fortune  has  bestowed  so  many  charms  —  could 
any  argument  make  you  patient  under  the  irretrievable 
loss  of  your  personal  advantages,  with  the  concomitant 
loss,  as  in  my  case  is  most  probable,  of  that  lover  for 
whom  you  have  already  done  so  much? ' 

The  English  lady  cast  her  eyes  again  on  her  friend, 
and  could  not  help  shuddering  a  little  at  the  thought  of 
her  own  beautiful  countenance  being  exchanged  for  the 
seamed  and  scarred  features  of  the  Lady  of  Hautlieu, 
irregularly  lighted  by  the  beams  of  a  single  eye. 

'Believe  me,'  she  said,  looking  solemnly  upwards, '  that 
even  in  the  case  which  you  suppose,  I  would  not  sorrow 
so  much  for  myself  as  I  would  for  the  poor-spirited 
thoughts  of  the  lover  who  could  leave  me  because  those 
transitory  charms  —  which  must  in  any  case  ere  long 
take  their  departure  —  had  fled  ere  yet  th€  bridal  day. 
It  is,  however,  concealed  by  the  decrees  of  Providence 

182 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

in  what  manner,  or  to  what  extent,  other  persons,  with 
whose  disposition  we  are  not  fully  acquainted,  may  be 
affected  by  such  changes.  I  can  only  assure  you  that 
my  hopes  go  with  yours,  and  that  there  is  no  difficulty 
which  shall  remain  in  your  path  in  future,  if  it  is  in  my 
power  to  remove  it.  Hark ! ' 

'  It  is  the  signal  of  our  freedom,'  replied  Ursula,  giving 
attention  to  something  resembling  the  whoop  of  the 
night-owl.  'We  must  prepare  to  leave  the  convent  in  a 
few  minutes.  Have  you  anything  to  take  with  you?' 

'Nothing,'  answered  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  *  except  the 
few  valuables,  which  I  scarce  know  why  I  brought  with 
me  on  my  flight  hither.  This  scroll,  which  I  shall  leave 
behind,  gives  my  faithful  minstrel  permission  to  save 
himself,  by  confessing  to  Sir  John  de  Walton  who  the 
person  really  is  whom  he  has  had  within  his  reach.' 

'It  is  strange,'  said  the  novice  of  St.  Bride,  'through, 
what  extraordinary  labyrinths  this  Love,  this  will-of- 
the-wisp,  guides  his  votaries.  Take  heed  as  you  descend ; 
this  trap-door,  carefully  concealed,  curiously  jointed 
and  oiled,  leads  to  a  secret  postern,  where  I  conceive  the 
horses  already  wait,  which  will  enable  us  speedily  to  bid 
adieu  to  St.  Bride's  —  Heaven's  blessing  on  her  and  on 
her  convent!  We  can  have  no  advantage  from  any 
light  until  we  are  in  the  open  air.' 

During  this  time.  Sister  Ursula,  to  give  her  for  the  last 
time  her  conventual  name,  exchanged  her  stole,  or  loose 
upper  garment,  for  the  more  succinct  cloak  and  hood  of 
a  horseman.  She  led  the  way  through  divers  passages, 
studiously  compHcated,  until  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  with 
throbbing  heart,  stood  in  the  pale  and  doubtful  moon- 
light, which  was  shining  with  grey  uncertainty  upon  the 

183 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

walls  of  the  ancient  building.  The  imitation  of  an  owlet's 
cry  directed  them  to  a  neighbouring  large  elm,  and  on 
approaching  it  they  were  aware  of  three  horses,  held  by 
one  concerning  whom  they  could  only  see  that  he  was 
tall,  strong,  and  accoutred  in  the  dress  of  a  man-at- 
arms. 

'The  sooner,'  he  said,  'we  are  gone  from  this  place, 
Lady  Margaret,  it  is  so  much  the  better.  You  have  only 
to  direct  the  course  which  we  shall  hold.' 

Lady  Margaret's  answer  was  given  beneath  her 
breath;  and  replied  to  with  a  caution  from  the  guide 
to  ride  slowly  and  silently  for  the  first  quarter  of  an 
hour,  by  which  time  inhabited  places  would  be  left  at 
a  distance. 


CHAPTER  XII 

Great  was  the  astonishment  of  the  young  knight  of  Val- 
ence and  the  reverend  Father  Jerome,  when,  upon  break- 
ing into  the  cell,  they  discovered  the  youthful  pilgrim's 
absence;  and,  from  the  garments  which  were  left,  saw 
every  reason  to  think  that  the  one-eyed  novice.  Sister 
Ursula,  had  accompanied  him  in  his  escape  from  custody. 
A  thousand  thoughts  thronged  upon  Sir  Aymer,  how 
shamefully  he  had  suffered  himself  to  be  outwitted  by 
the  artifices  of  a  boy  and  of  a  novice.  His  reverend  com- 
panion in  error  felt  no  less  contrition  for  having  recom- 
mended to  the  knight  a  mild  exercise  of  his  authority. 
Father  Jerome  had  obtained  his  preferment  as  abbot 
upon  the  faith  of  his  zeal  for  the  cause  of  the  English 
monarch,  with  the  affected  interest  in  which  he  was  at  a 
loss  to  reconcile  his  proceedings  of  the  last  night.  A  hur- 
ried inquiry  took  place,  from  which  little  could  be  learned, 
save  that  the  young  pilgrim  had  most  certainly  gone  off 
with  the  Lady  Margaret  de  Hautlieu  —  an  incident  at 
which  the  females  of  the  convent  expressed  surprise, 
mingled  with  a  great  deal  of  horror;  while  that  of  the 
males  whom  the  news  soon  reached,  was  qualified  with  a 
degree  of  wonder,  which  seemed  to  be  founded  upon  the 
very  different  personal  appearance  of  the  two  fugitives. 
'Sacred  Virgin,'  said  a  nun,  'who  could  have  con- 
ceived the  hopeful  votaress.  Sister  Ursula,  so  lately 
drowned  in  tears  for  her  father's  untimely  fate,  capable 
of  eloping  with  a  boy  scarce  fourteen  years  old?' 

185 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'And,  holy  St.  Bride!'  said  the  Abbot  Jerome,  'what 
could  have  made  so  handsome  a  young  man  lend  his 
arm  to  assist  such  a  nightmare  as  Sister  Ursula  in  the 
commission  of  so  great  an  enormity?  Certainly  he  can 
neither  plead  temptation  nor  seduction,  but  must  have 
gone,  as  the  wordly  phrase  is,  to  the  devil  with  a  dish- 
clout.' 

'I  must  disperse  the  soldiers  to  pursue  the  fugitives,' 
said  De  Valence,  'unless  this  letter,  which  the  pilgrim 
must  have  left  behind  him,  shall  contain  some  explana- 
tions respecting  our  mysterious  prisoner.' 

After  viewing  the  contents  with  some  surprise,  he 
read  aloud,  —  '  The  undersigned,  late  residing  in  the 
house  of  St.  Bride,  do  you,  Father  Jerome,  the  abbot  of 
said  house,  to  know  that,  finding  you  were  disposed  to 
treat  me  as  a  prisoner  and  a  spy,  in  the  sanctuary  to 
which  you  had  received  me  as  a  distressed  person,  I  have 
resolved  to  use  my  natural  liberty,  with  which  you  have 
no  right  to  interfere,  and  therefore  have  withdrawn 
myself  from  your  abbacy.  Moreover,  finding  that  the 
novice  called  in  your  convent  Sister  Ursula  —  who  hath, 
by  monastic  rule  and  discipline,  a  fair  title  to  return  to 
the  world  unless  she  is  pleased,  after  a  year's  noviciate, 
to  profess  herself  sister  of  your  order  —  is  determined  to 
use  such  privilege,  I  jo^^fully  take  the  opportunity  of  her 
company  in  this  her  lawful  resolution,  as  being  what  is 
in  conformity  to  the  law  of  God,  and  the  precepts  of  St. 
Bride,  which  gave  you  no  authority  to  detain  any  person 
in  your  convent  by  force,  who  hath  not  taken  upon  her 
irrevocably  the  vows  of  the  order. 

'To  you.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  Sir  Aymer  de  Val- 
ence, knights  of  England,  commanding  the  garrison  of 

i86 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Douglas  Dale,  I  have  only  to  say,  that  you  have  acted 
and  are  acting  against  me  under  a  mystery,  the  solution 
of  which  is  comprehended  in  a  secret  known  only  to  my 
faithful  minstrel,  Bertram  of  the  many  Lays,  as  whose 
son  I  have  found  it  convenient  to  pass  myself.  But,  as  I 
cannot  at  this  time  prevail  upon  myself  personally  to 
discover  a  secret  which  cannot  well  be  unfolded  without 
feelings  of  shame,  I  not  only  give  permission  to  the  said 
Bertram  the  minstrel,  but  I  charge  and  command  him, 
that  he  tell  to  you  the  purpose  with  which  I  came  origin- 
ally to  the  Castle  of  Douglas.  When  this  is  discovered,  it 
will  only  remain  to  express  my  feelings  towards  the  two 
knights,  in  return  for  the  pain  and  agony  of  mind  which 
their  violence  and  threats  of  further  severities  have  occa- 
sioned me. 

'And  first,  respecting  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  I  freely 
and  willingly  forgive  him  for  having  been  involved  in  a 
mistake  to  which  I  myself  led  the  way,  and  I  shall  at  all 
times  be  happy  to  meet  with  him  as  an  acquaintance, 
and  never  to  think  further  of  his  part  in  these  few  days' 
history,  saving  as  matter  of  mirth  and  ridicule. 

'But  respecting  Sir  John  de  Walton,  I  must  request 
of  him  to  consider  whether  his  conduct  towards  me, 
standing  as  we  at  present  do  towards  each  other,  is  such 
as  he  himself  ought  to  forget,  or  I  ought  to  forgive;  and 
I  trust  he  will  understand  me  when  I  tell  him  that  all 
former  connexions  must  henceforth  be  at  an  end  between 
him  and  the  supposed 

'Augustine.' 

'This  is  madness,'  said  the  abbot,  when  he  had  read 
the   letter  —  '  very   midsummer   madness,   not   unf re- 

187 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

quently  an  accompaniment  of  this  pestilential  disease, 
and  I  should  do  well  in  requiring  of  those  soldiers  who 
shall  first  apprehend  this  youth  Augustine,  that  they 
reduce  his  victuals  immediately  to  water  and  bread,  tak- 
ing care  that  the  diet  do  not  exceed  in  measure  what  is 
necessary  to  sustain  nature;  nay,  I  should  be  warranted 
by  the  learned,  did  I  recommend  a  sufiicient  intermix- 
ture of  flagellation  with  belts,  stirrup-leathers,  or  sur- 
cingles, and  failing  those,  with  riding-whips,  switches, 
and  the  like.' 

'Hush!  my  reverend  father,'  said  De  Valence,  *a  light 
begins  to  break  in  upon  me.  John  de  Walton,  if  my  sus- 
picion be  true,  would  sooner  expose  his  own  flesh  to  be 
hewn  from  his  bones  than  have  this  Augustine's  finger 
stung  by  a  gnat.  Instead  of  treating  this  youth  as  a 
madman,  I,  for  my  own  part,  will  be  contented  to  avow 
that  I  myself  have  been  bewitched  and  fascinated;  and 
by  my  honour,  if  I  send  out  my  attendants  in  quest  of 
the  fugitives,  it  shall  be  with  the  strict  charge  that,  when 
apprehended,  they  treat  them  with  all  respect,  and  pro- 
tect them,  if  they  object  to  return  to  this  house,  to  any 
honourable  place  of  refuge  which  they  may  desire.' 

'I  hope,'  said  the  abbot,  looking  strangely  confused, 
*  I  shall  be  first  heard  in  behalf  of  the  church  concerning 
this  affair  of  an  abducted  nun?  You  see  yourself,  sir 
knight,  that  this  scapegrace  of  a  minstrel  avouches 
neither  repentance  nor  contrition  at  his  share  in  a  mat- 
ter so  flagitious.' 

'You  shall  be  secured  an  opportunity  of  being  fully 
heard,'  replied  the  knight,  'if  you  shall  find  at  last  that 
you  really  desire  one.  Meantime,  I  must  back,  without 
a  moment's  delay,  to  inform  Sir  John  de  Walton  of  the 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

turn  which  affairs  have  taken.  Farewell,  reverend 
father.  By  my  honour,  we  may  wish  each  other  joy  that 
we  have  escaped  from  a  troublesome  charge,  which 
brought  as  much  terror  with  it  as  the  phantoms  of  a 
fearful  dream,  and  is  yet  found  capable  of  being  dispelled 
by  a  cure  as  simple  as  that  of  awakening  the  sleeper. 
But,  by  St.  Bride!  both  churchmen  and  laymen  are 
bound  to  sympathise  with  the  unfortunate  Sir  John  de 
Walton.  I  tell  thee,  father,  that  if  this  letter'  —  touch- 
ing the  missive  with  his  finger  —  *  is  to  be  construed 
literally,  as  far  as  respects  him,  he  is  the  man  most  to  be 
pitied  betwixt  the  brink  of  Solway  and  the  place  where 
we  now  stand.  Suspend  thy  curiosity,  most  worthy 
churchman,  lest  there  should  be  more  in  this  matter 
than  I  myself  see;  so  that,  while  thinking  that  I  have 
lighted  on  the  true  explanation,  I  may  not  have  to 
acknowledge  that  I  have  been  again  leading  you  into 
error.  Sound  to  horse  there !  Ho ! '  he  called  out  from  the 
window  of  the  apartment;  'and  let  the  party  I  brought 
hither  prepare  to  scour  the  woods  on  their  return.' 

'By  my  faith!'  said  Father  Jerome,  *I  am  right  glad 
that  this  young  nutcracker  is  going  to  leave  me  to  my 
own  meditation.  I  hate  when  a  young  person  pretends 
to  understand  whatever  passes,  while  his  betters  are 
obliged  to  confess  that  it  is  all  a  mystery  to  them.  Such 
an  assumption  is  like  that  of  the  conceited  fool,  Sister 
Ursula,  who  pretended  to  read  with  a  single  eye  a  manu- 
script which  I  myself  could  not  find  intelligible  with  the 
assistance  of  my  spectacles.' 

This  might  not  have  quite  pleased  the  young  knight, 
nor  was  it  one  of  those  truths  which  the  abbot  would 
have  chosen  to  deliver  in  his  hearing.  But  the  knight 

189 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

had  shaken  him  by  the  hand,  said  adieu,  and  was 
already  at  Hazelside,  issuing  particular  orders  to  little 
troops  of  the  archers  and  others,  and  occasionally  chid- 
ing Thomas  Dickson,  who,  with  a  degree  of  curiosity 
which  the  English  knight  was  not  very  willing  to  excuse, 
had  been  endeavouring  to  get  some  account  of  the  occur- 
rences of  the  night. 

'Peace,  fellow!'  he  said,  'and  mind  thine  own  busi- 
ness, being  well  assured  that  the  hour  will  come  in  which 
it  will  require  all  the  attention  thou  canst  give,  leaving 
others  to  take  care  of  their  own  affairs.' 

'  If  I  am  suspected  of  anything,'  answered  Dickson,  in  a 
tone  rather  dogged  and  surly  than  otherwise,  'methinks 
it  were  but  fair  to  let  me  know  what  accusation  is  brought 
against  me.  I  need  not  tell  you  that  chivalry  prescribes 
that  a  knight  should  not  attack  an  enemy  undefied.' 

'When  you  are  a  knight,'  answered  Sir  Aymer  de  Val- 
ence, '  it  will  be  time  enough  for  me  to  reckon  with  you 
upon  the  points  of  form  due  to  you  by  the  laws  of  chiv- 
alry. Meanwhile,  you  had  best  let  me  know  what  share 
you  have  had  in  playing  off  the  martial  phantom  which 
sounded  the  rebellious  slogan  of  Douglas  in  the  town  of 
that  name?' 

'I  know  nothing  of  what  you  speak,'  answered  the 
goodman  of  Hazelside. 

'See  then,'  said  the  knight,  'that  you  do  not  engage 
yourself  in  the  affairs  of  other  people,  even  if  your  con- 
science warrants  that  you  are  in  no  danger  from  your 
own.' 

So  saying,  he  rode  off,  not  waiting  any  answer.  The 
ideas  which  filled  his  head  were  to  the  following  pur- 
pose: — 

190 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'I  know  not  how  it  is,  but  one  mist  seems  no  sooner  to 
clear  away  than  we  find  ourselves  engaged  in  another. 
I  take  it  for  granted  that  the  disguised  damsel  is  no  other 
than  the  goddess  of  Walton's  private  idolatry,  who  has 
cost  him  and  me  so  much  trouble,  and  some  certain 
degree  of  misunderstanding,  during  these  last  weeks.  By 
my  honour!  this  fair  lady  is  right  lavish  in  the  pardon 
which  she  has  so  frankly  bestowed  upon  me,  and  if  she 
is  willing  to  be  less  complaisant  to  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
why  then  —  And  what  then?  It  surely  does  not  infer 
that  she  would  receive  me  into  that  place  in  her  affec- 
tions from  which  she  has  just  expelled  De  Walton?  Nor, 
if  she  did,  could  I  avail  myself  of  a  change  in  favour  of 
myself,  at  the  expense  of  my  friend  and  companion-in- 
arms. It  were  a  folly  even  to  dream  of  a  thing  so  improb- 
able. But  with  respect  to  the  other  business,  it  is  worth 
serious  consideration.  Yon  sexton  seems  to  have  kept 
company  with  dead  bodies  until  he  is  unfit  for  the 
society  of  the  living ;  and  as  to  that  Dickson  of  Hazelside, 
as  they  call  him,  there  is  no  attempt  against  the  English 
during  these  endless  wars  in  which  that  man  has  not 
been  concerned;  had  my  life  depended  upon  it,  I  could 
not  have  prevented  myself  from  intimating  my  suspi- 
cions of  him,  let  him  take  it  as  he  lists.' 

So  saying,  the  knight  spurred  his  horse,  and  arriving 
at  Douglas  Castle  without  further  adventure,  demanded, 
in  a  tone  of  greater  cordiality  than  he  had  of  late  used, 
whether  he  could  be  admitted  to  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
having  something  of  consequence  to  report  to  him.  He 
was  immediately  ushered  into  an  apartment  in  which 
the  governor  was  seated  at  his  solitary  breakfast.  Con- 
sidering the  terms  upon  which  they  had  lately  stood,  the 

igi 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

governor  of  Douglas  Dale  was  somewhat  surprised  at 
the  easy  familiarity  with  which  De  Valence  now 
approached  him. 

*  Some  uncommon  news,'  said  Sir  John,  rather  gravely, 
*have  brought  me  the  honour  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence's 
company.' 

'It  is,'  answered  Sir  Aymer,  'what  seems  of  high 
importance  to  your  interest.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and 
therefore  I  were  to  blame  if  I  lost  a  moment  in  communi- 
cating it.' 

'I  shall  be  proud  to  profit  by  your  intelligence,'  said 
Sir  John  de  Walton. 

'And  I,  too,'  said  the  young  knight,  'am  loth  to  lose 
the  credit  of  having  penetrated  a  mystery  which  blinded 
Sir  John  de  Walton.  At  the  same  time,  I  do  not  wish  to 
be  thought  capable  of  jesting  with  you,  which  might  be 
the  case  were  I,  from  misapprehension,  to  give  a  false 
key  to  this  matter.  With  your  permission,  then,  we  will 
proceed  thus:  we  go  together  to  the  place  of  Bertram  the 
minstrel's  confinement.  I  have  in  my  possession  a  scroll 
from  the  young  person  who  was  entrusted  to  the  care  of 
the  abbot  Jerome ;  it  is  written  in  a  deHcate  female  hand, 
and  gives  authority  to  the  minstrel  to  declare  the  pur- 
pose which  brought  them  to  this  vale  of  Douglas.' 

'It  must  be  as  you  say,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
'although  I  can  scarce  see  occasion  for  adding  so  much 
form  to  a  mystery  which  can  be  expressed  in  such  small 
compass.' 

Accordingly  the  two  knights,  a  warder  leading  the 
way,  proceeded  to  the  dungeon  to  which  the  minstrel 
had  been  removed. 


I 


CHAPTER  Xm 

The  doors  of  the  stronghold  being  undone  displayed  a 
dungeon  such  as  in  those  days  held  victims  hopeless  of 
escape,  but  in  which  the  ingenious  knave  of  modern 
times  would  scarcely  have  deigned  to  remain  many 
hours.  The  huge  rings  by  which  the  fetters  were  sold- 
ered together  and  attached  to  the  human  body  were, 
when  examined  minutely,  found  to  be  clenched  together 
by  riveting  so  very  thin  that,  when  rubbed  with  corrosive 
acid,  or  patiently  ground  with  a  bit  of  sandstone,  the  hold 
of  the  fetters  upon  each  other  might  be  easily  forced 
asunder,  and  the  purpose  of  them  entirely  frustrated. 
The  locks  also,  large,  and  apparently  very  strong,  were 
so  coarsely  made  that  an  artist  of  small  ingenuity  could 
easily  contrive  to  get  the  better  of  their  fastenings  upon 
the  same  principle.  The  daylight  found  its  way  to  the 
subterranean  dungeon  only  at  noon,  and  through  a  pas- 
sage which  was  purposely  made  tortuous,  so  as  to  ex- 
clude the  rays  of  the  sun,  while  it  presented  no  obstacle 
to  wind  or  rain.  The  doctrine  that  a  prisoner  was  to  be 
esteemed  innocent  until  he  should  be  found  guilty  by  his 
peers  was  not  understood  in  those  days  of  brute  force, 
and  he  was  only  accommodated  with  a  lamp  or  other 
alleviation  of  his  misery  if  his  demeanour  was  quiet,  and 
he  appeared  disposed  to  give  his  jailor  no  trouble  by 
attempting  to  make  his  escape.  Such  a  cell  of  confine- 
ment was  that  of  Bertram,  whose  moderation  of  temper 
and  patience  had  nevertheless  procured  for  him  such 
45  193 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

mitigations  of  his  fate  as  the  warder  could  grant.  He 
was  permitted  to  carry  into  his  cell  the  old  book,  in  the 
perusal  of  which  he  found  an  amusement  of  his  sohtude, 
together  with  writing-materials,  and  such  other  helps 
towards  spending  his  time  as  were  consistent  with  his 
abode  in  the  bosom  of  the  rock,  and  the  degree  of  infor- 
mation with  which  his  minstrel  craft  had  possessed  him. 
He  raised  his  head  from  the  table  as  the  knight  entered, 
while  the  governor  observed  to  the  young  knight  — 

'As  you  seem  to  think  yourself  possessed  of  the  secret 
of  this  prisoner,  I  leave  it  to  you,  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence, 
to  bring  it  to  light  in  the  manner  which  you  shall  judge 
most  expedient.  If  the  man  or  his  son  have  suffered 
unnecessary  hardship,  it  shall  be  my  duty  to  make 
amends  —  which,  I  suppose,  can  be  no  very  important 
matter.' 

Bertram  looked  up,  and  fixed  his  eyes  full  upon  the 
governor,  but  read  nothing  in  his  looks  which  indicated 
his  being  better  acquainted  than  before  with  the  secret 
of  his  imprisonment.  Yet,  upon  turning  his  eye  to- 
wards Sir  Aymer,  his  countenance  evidently  lighted  up, 
and  the  glance  which  passed  between  them  was  one  of 
intelligence. 

'You  have  my  secret,  then,'  said  he,  'and  you  know 
who  it  is  that  passes  under  the  name  of  Augustine? ' 

Sir  Aymer  exchanged  with  him  a  look  of  acquiescence; 
while,  the  eyes  of  the  governor  glancing  wildly  from  the 
prisoner  to  the  knight  of  Valence,  exclaimed  — 

*  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  as  you  are  belted  knight  and 
Christian  man,  as  you  have  honour  to  preserve  on  earth 
and  a  soul  to  rescue  after  death,  I  charge  you  to  tell  me 
the  meaning  of  this  mystery!  It  may  be  that  you  con- 

194 


I 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

ceive,  with  truth,  that  you  have  subject  of  complaint 
against  me.  If  so,  I  will  satisfy  you  as  a  knight  may.' 

The  minstrel  spoke  at  the  same  moment.  '  I  charge 
this  knight,'  he  said,  'by  his  vow  of  chivalry,  that  he  do 
not  divulge  any  secret  belonging  to  a  person  of  honour 
and  of  character,  unless  he  has  positive  assurance  that 
it  is  done  entirely  by  that  person's  own  consent.' 

'Let  this  note  remove  your  scruples,'  said  Sir  Aymer, 
putting  the  scroll  into  the  hands  of  the  minstrel;  'and  for 
you.  Sir  John  de  Walton,  far  from  retaining  the  least 
feeling  of  any  misunderstanding  which  may  have  existed 
between  us,  I  am  disposed  entirely  to  bury  it  in  forget- 
fulness,  as  having  arisen  out  of  a  series  of  mistakes  which 
no  mortal  could  have  comprehended.  And  do  not  be 
offended,  my  dear  Sir  John,  when  I  protest,  on  my 
knightly  faith,  that  I  pity  the  pain  which  I  think  this 
scroll  is  likely  to  give  you,  and  that,  if  my  utmost  efforts 
can  be  of  the  least  service  to  you  in  unravelling  this  tan- 
gled skein,  I  will  contribute  them  with  as  much  earnest- 
ness as  ever  I  did  aught  in  my  life.  This  faithful  minstrel 
will  now  see  that  he  can  have  no  difficulty  in  yielding  up 
a  secret  which  I  doubt  not,  but  for  the  writing  I  have 
just  put  into  his  hands,  he  would  have  continued  to  keep 
with  unshaken  fidelity.' 

Sir  Aymer  now  placed  in  De  Walton's  hand  a  note,  in 
which  he  had,  ere  he  left  St.  Bride's  convent,  signified 
his  own  interpretation  of  the  mystery ;  and  the  governor 
had  scarcely  read  the  name  it  contained,  before  the  same 
name  was  pronounced  aloud  by  Bertram,  who  at  the 
same  moment  handed  to  the  governor  the  scroll  which 
he  had  received  from  the  knight  of  Valence. 

The  white  plume  which  floated  over  the  knight's  cap 

195 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  maintenance,  which  was  worn  as  a  head-piece  within 
doors,  was  not  more  pale  in  complexion  than  was  the 
knight  himself  at  the  unexpected  and  surprising  infor- 
mation that  the  lady  who  was,  in  chivalrous  phrase, 
empress  of  his  thoughts  and  commander  of  his  actions, 
and  to  whom,  even  in  less  fantastic  times,  he  must  have 
owed  the  deepest  gratitude  for  the  generous  election 
which  she  had  made  in  his  favour,  was  the  same  person 
whom  he  had  threatened  with  personal  violence,  and 
subjected  to  hardships  and  affronts  which  he  would  not 
willingly  have  bestowed  even  upon  the  meanest  of  her 
sex. 

Yet  Sir  John  de  Walton  seemed  at  first  scarcely  to 
comprehend  the  numerous  ill  consequences  which  might 
probably  follow  this  unhappy  complication  of  mistakes. 
He  took  the  paper  from  the  minstrel's  hand,  and  while 
his  eye,  assisted  by  the  lamp,  wandered  over  the  charac- 
ters without  apparently  their  conveying  any  distinct 
impression  to  his  understanding,  De  Valence  even  be- 
came alarmed  that  he  was  about  to  lose  his  faculties. 

'For  Heaven's  sake,  sir,'  he  said,  'be  a  man,  and  sup- 
port with  manly  steadiness  these  unexpected  occur- 
rences —  I  would  fain  think  they  will  reach  to  nothing 
else  —  which  the  wit  of  man  could  not  have  prevented. 
This  fair  lady,  I  would  fain  hope,  cannot  be  much  hurt 
or  deeply  offended  by  a  train  of  circumstances  the 
natural  consequence  of  your  anxiety  to  discharge  per- 
fectly a  duty  upon  which  must  depend  the  accomplish- 
ment of  all  the  hopes  she  had  permitted  you  to  entertain. 
In  God's  name,  rouse  up,  sir;  let  it  not  be  said  that  an 
apprehended  frown  of  a  fair  lady  hath  damped  to  such  a 
degree  the  courage  of  the  boldest  knight  in  England:  be 

196 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

what  men  have  called  you,  ''Walton  the  Unwavering." 
In  Heaven's  name,  let  us  at  least  see  that  the  lady  is 
indeed  offended  before  we  conclude  that  she  is  irrecon- 
cilably so.  To  whose  fault  are  we  to  ascribe  the  source 
of  all  these  errors?  Surely,  with  all  due  respect,  to  the 
caprice  of  the  lady  herself,  which  has  engendered  such  a 
nest  of  mistakes.  Think  of  it  as  a  man  and  as  a  soldier. 
Suppose  that  you  yourself,  or  I,  desirous  of  proving  the 
fidelity  of  our  sentinels,  or  for  any  other  reason,  good  or 
bad,  attempted  to  enter  this  Dangerous  Castle  of  Doug- 
las without  giving  the  password  to  the  warders,  would 
we  be  entitled  to  blame  those  upon  duty  if,  not  knowing 
our  persons,  they  manfully  refused  us  entrance,  made 
us  prisoners,  and  mishandled  us  while  resisting  our 
attempt,  in  terms  of  the  orders  which  we  ourselves  had 
imposed  upon  them?  What  is  there  that  makes  a  differ- 
ence between  such  a  sentinel  and  yourself,  John  de  Wal- 
ton, in  this  curious  affair,  which,  by  Heaven!  would 
rather  form  a  gay  subject  for  the  minstrelsy  of  this  excel- 
lent bard  than  the  theme  of  a  tragic  lay?  Come!  look 
not  thus.  Sir  John  de  Walton;  be  angry,  if  you  will,  with 
the  lady  who  has  committed  such  a  piece  of  folly;  or 
with  me,  who  have  rode  up  and  down  nearly  all  night  on 
a  fool's  errand,  and  spoiled  my  best  horse,  in  absolute 
uncertainty  how  I  shall  get  another  till  my  uncle  of 
Pembroke  and  I  shall  be  reconciled;  or,  lastly,  if  you  de- 
sire to  be  totally  absurd  in  your  wrath,  direct  it  against 
this  worthy  minstrel  on  account  of  his  rare  fidelity,  and 
punish  him  for  that  for  which  he  better  deserves  a  chain 
of  gold.  Let  passion  out  if  you  will;  but  chase  this 
desponding  gloom  from  the  brow  of  a  man  and  a  belted 
knight.' 

197 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Sir  John  de  Walton  made  an  effort  to  speak,  and  suc- 
ceeded with  some  difficulty.  'A>Tner  de  Valence,'  he 
said,  'in  irritating  a  madman  you  do  but  sport  with 
your  own  life ' ;  and  then  remained  silent. 

'I  am  glad  you  can  say  so  much,'  replied  his  friend; 
'for  I  was  not  jesting  when  I  said  I  would  rather  that 
you  were  at  variance  with  me  than  that  you  laid  the 
whole  blame  on  yourself.  It  would  be  courteous,  I  think, 
to  set  this  minstrel  instantly  at  liberty.  Meantime,  for 
his  lady's  sake,  I  will  entreat  him,  in  all  honour,  to  be 
oxir  guest  till  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely  shall  do  us 
the  same  honour,  and  to  assist  us  in  our  search  after  her 
place  of  retirement.  Good  minstrel,'  he  continued,  'you 
hear  what  I  say,  and  you  will  not,  I  suppose,  be  surprised 
that,  in  all  honour  and  kind  usage,  you  find  yourself 
detained  for  a  short  space  in  this  Castle  of  Douglas? ' 

'You  seem,  sir  knight,'  replied  the  minstrel,  'not  so 
much  to  keep  your  eye  upon  the  right  of  doing  what  you 
should  as  to  possess  the  might  of  doing  what  you  would. 
I  must  necessarily  be  guided  by  your  advice,  since  you 
have  the  power  to  make  it  a  command.' 

'And  I  trust,'  continued  De  Valence,  'that,  when 
your  mistress  and  you  again  meet,  we  shall  have  the 
benefit  of  your  intercession  for  anything  which  we  may 
have  done  to  displeasure  her,  considering  that  the  pur- 
pose of  our  action  was  exactly  the  reverse.' 

'Let  me,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  'say  a  single  word. 
I  will  offer  thee  a  chain  of  gold,  heavy  enough  to  bear 
down  the  weight  of  these  shackles,  as  a  sign  of  regret  for 
having  condemned  thee  to  suffer  so  many  indignities.' 

'Enough  said,  Sir  John,'  said  De  Valence;  'let  us  pro- 
mise no  more  till  this  good  minstrel  shall  see  some  sign 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

of  performance.  Follow  me  this  way,  and  I  will  tell 
thee  in  private  of  other  tidings,  which  it  is  important 
that  you  should  know.' 

So  saying,  he  withdrew  De  Walton  from  the  dungeon, 
and  sending  for  the  old  knight,  Sir  Philip  de  Montenay, 
already  mentioned,  who  acted  as  seneschal  of  the  castle, 
he  commanded  that  the  minstrel  should  be  enlarged 
from  the  dungeon,  well  looked  to  in  other  respects,  yet 
prohibited,  though  with  every  mark  of  civility,  from 
leaving  the  castle  without  a  trusty  attendant. 

'And  now.  Sir  John  de  Walton,'  he  said,  'methinks 
you  are  a  little  churlish  in  not  ordering  me  some  break- 
fast, after  I  have  been  all  night  engaged  in  your  affairs; 
and  a  cup  of  muscadel  would,  I  think,  be  no  bad  induc- 
tion to  a  full  consideration  of  this  perplexed  matter.' 

'Thou  knowest,'  answered  De  Walton,  'that  thou 
mayst  call  for  what  thou  wilt,  provided  always  thou 
tellest  me,  without  loss  of  time,  what  else  thou  knowest 
respecting  the  will  of  the  lady  against  whom  we  have  all 
sinned  so  grievously,  and  I,  alas!  beyond  hope  of  for- 
giveness.' 

'Trust  me,  I  hope,'  said  the  knight  of  Valence,  'the 
good  lady  bears  me  no  malice,  as  indeed  she  has  expressly 
renounced  any  ill-will  against  me.  The  words,  you  see, 
are  as  plain  as  you  yourself  may  read  —  "The  lady  par- 
dons poor  Aymer  de  Valence,  and  willingly,  for  having 
been  involved  in  a  mistake  to  which  she  herself  led  the 
way ;  she  herself  will  at  all  times  be  happy  to  meet  with 
him  as  an  acquaintance,  and  never  to  think  further  of 
these  few  days'  history,  except  as  matter  of  mirth  and 
ridicule."   So  it  is  expressly  written  and  set  down.' 

'  Yes, '  replied  Sir  John  de  Walton, '  but  see  you  not  that 
199 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

her  offending  lover  is  expressly  excluded  from  the  am- 
nesty granted  to  the  lesser  offender?  Mark  you  not  the 
concluding  paragraph?'  He  took  the  scroll  with  a 
trembling  hand,  and  read  with  a  discomposed  voice  its 
closing  words,  *It  is  even  so:  "All  former  connexion 
must  henceforth  be  at  an  end  between  him  and  the  sup- 
posed Augustine."  Explain  to  me  how  the  reading  of 
these  words  is  reconcilable  to  anything  but  their  plain 
sense  of  condemnation  and  forfeiture  of  contract,  imply- 
ing destruction  of  the  hopes  of  Sir  John  de  Walton?' 

'You  are  somewhat  an  older  man  than  I,  sir  knight,' 
answered  De  Valence,  'and,  I  will  grant,  by  far  the 
wiser  and  more  experienced ;  yet  I  will  uphold  that  there 
is  no  adopting  the  interpretation  which  you  seem  to  have 
affixed  in  your  mind  to  this  letter,  without  supposing 
the  preliminary  that  the  fair  writer  was  distracted  in 
her  understanding  —  nay,  never  start,  look  wildly,  or 
lay  your  hand  on  your  sword,  I  do  not  affirm  this  is  the 
case.  I  say  again,  that  no  woman  in  her  senses  would 
have  pardoned  a  common  acquaintance  for  his  behav- 
ing to  her  with  unintentional  disrespect  and  unkindness 
during  the  currency  of  a  certain  masquerade,  and,  at  the 
same  time,  sternly  and  irrevocably  broke  off  with  the 
lover  to  whom  her  troth  was  plighted,  although  his  error 
in  joining  in  the  offence  was  neither  grosser  nor  more 
protracted  than  that  of  the  person  indifferent  to  her 
love.' 

'Do  not  blaspheme,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton;  'and 
forgive  me  if,  in  justice  to  truth  and  to  the  angel  whom  I 
fear  I  have  forfeited  for  ever,  I  point  out  to  you  the  dif- 
ference which  a  maiden  of  dignity  and  of  feeling  must 
make  between  an  offence  towards  her  committed  by  an 

200 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

ordinary  acquaintance  and  one  of  precisely  the  same 
kind  offered  by  a  person  who  is  bound  by  the  most  unde- 
served preference,  by  the  most  generous  benefits,  and 
by  everything  which  can  bind  human  feeling,  to  think 
and  reflect  ere  he  becomes  an  actor  in  any  case  in  which 
it  is  possible  for  her  to  be  concerned.' 

'Now,  by  mine  honour,'  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  'I 
am  glad  to  hear  thee  make  some  attempt  at  reason, 
although  it  is  but  an  unreasonable  kind  of  reason  too, 
since  its  object  is  to  destroy  thine  own  hopes,  and  argue 
away  thine  own  chance  of  happiness;  but  if  I  have,  in 
the  progress  of  this  affair,  borne  me  sometimes  towards 
thee  as  to  give  not  only  the  governor,  but  even  the  friend, 
some  cause  of  displeasure,  I  will  make  it  up  to  thee  now, 
John  de  Walton,  by  trying  to  convince  thee  in  spite  of 
thine  own  perverse  logic.  But  here  comes  the  muscadel 
and  the  breakfast ;  wilt  thou  take  some  refreshment  — 
or  shall  we  go  on  without  the  spirit  of  muscadel?' 

'For  Heaven's  sake,'  replied  De  Walton,  'do  as  thou 
wilt,  so  thou  make  me  clear  of  thy  well-intended  babble.' 

'Nay,  thou  shalt  not  brawl  me  out  of  my  powers  of 
argument,'  said  De  Valence,  laughing,  and  helping  him- 
self to  a  brimming  cup  of  wine;  'if  thou  acknowledgest 
thyself  conquered,  I  am  contented  to  give  the  victory 
to  the  inspiring  strength  of  the  jovial  liquor.' 

'Do  as  thou  listest,'  said  De  Walton,  'but  make  an 
end  of  an  argument  which  thou  canst  not  comprehend.' 

*I  deny  the  charge,'  answered  the  younger  knight, 
wiping  his  lips,  after  having  finished  his  draught;  'and 
listen,  Walton  the  Warlike,  to  a  chapter  in  the  history  of 
women,  in  which  thou  art  more  unskilled  than  I  would 
wish  thee  to  be.  Thou  canst  not  deny  that,  be  it  right 

20I 

SANTA  BARIMA  STATE  COLLEGE  LIBR/ 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

or  wrong,  thy  Lady  Augusta  hath  ventured  more  for- 
ward with  you  than  is  usual  upon  the  sea  of  affection: 
she  boldly  made  thee  her  choice,  while  thou  wert  as 
yet  known  to  her  only  as  a  flower  of  English  chivalry. 
Faith,  and  I  respect  her  for  her  frankness;  but  it  was  a 
choice  which  the  more  cold  of  her  own  sex  might  per- 
haps claim  occasion  to  term  rash  and  precipitate.  Nay, 
be  not,  I  pray  thee,  offended  —  I  am  far  from  thinking 
or  saying  so;  on  the  contrary,  I  will  uphold  with  my 
lance  her  selection  of  John  de  Walton  against  the  min- 
ions of  a  court  to  be  a  wise  and  generous  choice,  and  her 
own  behavior  as  alike  candid  and  noble.  But  she  her- 
self is  not  unlikely  to  dread  unjust  misconstruction  —  a 
fear  of  which  may  not  improbably  induce  her,  upon 
any  occasion,  to  seize  some  opportunity  of  showing  an 
unwonted  and  unusual  rigour  towards  her  lover,  in  order 
to  balance  her  having  extended  towards  him,  in  the 
beginning  of  their  intercourse,  somewhat  of  an  unusual 
degree  of  frank  encouragement.  Nay,  it  might  be  easy 
for  her  lover  so  far  to  take  part  against  himself,  by  argu- 
ing as  thou  dost  when  out  of  thy  senses,  as  to  make  it 
difficult  for  her  to  withdraw  from  an  argument  which 
he  himself  was  foolish  enough  to  strengthen;  and  thus, 
like  a  maiden  too  soon  taken  at  her  first  nay-say,  she 
shall  perhaps  be  allowed  no  opportunity  of  bearing  her- 
self according  to  her  real  feelings,  or  retracting  a  sen- 
tence issued  with  consent  of  the  party  whose  hopes  it 
destroys.' 

*I  have  heard  thee,  De  Valence,'  answered  the  gov- 
ernor of  Douglas  Dale;  'nor  is  it  difficult  for  me  to  admit 
that  these  thy  lessons  may  serve  as  a  chart  to  many  a 
female  heart,  but  not  to  that  of  Augusta  de  Berkeley. 

202 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

By  my  life,  I  say  I  would  much  sooner  be  deprived  of 
the  merit  of  those  few  deeds  of  chivalry  which  thou  say- 
est  have  procured  for  me  such  enviable  distinction  than 
I  would  act  upon  them  with  the  insolence,  as  if  I  said 
that  my  place  in  the  lady's  bosom  was  too  firmly  fixed 
to  be  shaken  even  by  the  success  of  a  worthier  man,  or 
by  my  own  gross  failure  in  respect  to  the  object  of  my 
attachment.  No,  herself  alone  shall  have  power  to  per- 
suade me  that  even  goodness  equal  to  that  of  an  inter- 
ceding saint  will  restore  me  to  the  place  in  her  affections 
which  I  have  most  unworthily  forfeited  by  a  stupidity 
only  to  be  compared  to  that  of  brutes.' 

'If  you  are  so  minded,'  said  Aymer  de  Valence,  *I 
have  only  one  word  more  —  forgive  me  if  I  speak  it 
peremptorily — the  lady,  as  you  say,  and  say  truly,  must 
be  the  final  arbitress  in  this  question.  My  arguments  do 
not  extend  to  insisting  that  you  should  claim  her  hand 
whether  she  herself  will  or  no ;  but  to  learn  her  determina- 
tion, it  is  necessary  that  you  should  find  out  where  she  is, 
of  which  I  am  unfortunately  not  able  to  inform  you.' 

'How!  what  mean  you?'  exclaimed  the  governor,  who 
now  only  began  to  comprehend  the  extent  of  his  misfor- 
tune.  'Whither  hath  she  fled,  or  with  whom?' 

'She  is  fled,  for  what  I  know,'  said  De  Valence,  'in 
search  of  a  more  enterprising  lover  than  one  who  is  so 
willing  to  interpret  every  air  of  frost  as  a  killing  blight 
to  his  hopes;  perhaps  she  seeks  the  Black  Douglas,  or 
some  such  hero  of  the  thistle,  to  reward  with  her  lands, 
her  lordships,  and  beauty  those  virtues  of  enterprise  and 
courage  of  which  John  de  Walton  was  at  one  time 
thought  possessed.  But,  seriously,  events  are  passing 
around  us  of  strange  import.   I  saw  enough  last  night, 

203 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

on  my  way  to  St.  Bride's,  to  make  me  suspicious  of  every 
one.  I  sent  to  you  as  a  prisoner  the  old  sexton  of  the 
church  of  Douglas.  I  found  him  contumacious  as  to 
some  inquiries  which  I  thought  it  proper  to  prosecute; 
but  of  this  more  at  another  time.  The  escape  of  this 
lady  adds  greatly  to  the  difficulties  which  encircle  this 
devoted  castle.' 

'Aymer  de  Valence,'  replied  De  Walton,  in  a  solemn 
and  animated  tone,  'Douglas  Castle  shall  be  defended, 
as  we  have  hitherto  been  able,  with  the  aid  of  Heaven, 
to  spread  from  its  battlements  the  broad  banner  of  St. 
George.  Come  of  me  what  list  during  my  life,  I  will  die 
the  faithful  lover  of  Augusta  de  Berkely,  even  although 
I  no  longer  live  as  her  chosen  knight.  There  are  clois- 
ters and  hermitages  — ' 

'Ay,  marry  are  there,'  replied  Sir  Aymer,  'and  girdles 
of  hemp,  moreover,  and  beads  of  oak;  but  all  these  we 
omit  in  our  reckonings  till  we  discover  where  the  Lady 
Augusta  is,  and  what  she  purposes  to  do  in  the  matter.' 

'You  say  well,'  replied  De  Walton;  'let  us  hold  counsel 
together  by  what  means  we  shall,  if  possible,  discover 
the  lady's  too  hasty  retreat,  by  which  she  has  done  me 
great  wrong  —  I  mean,  if  she  supposed  her  commands 
would  not  have  been  fully  obeyed,  had  she  honoured 
with  them  the  governor  of  Douglas  Dale,  or  any  who 
are  under  his  command.' 

'Now,'  replied  De  Valence,  'you  again  speak  like  a 
true  son  of  chivalry.  With  your  permission,  I  would 
summon  this  minstrel  to  our  presence.  His  fidelity  to  his 
mistress  has  been  remarkable;  and,  as  matters  stand 
now,  we  must  take  instant  measures  for  tracing  the 
place  of  her  retreat.' 


CHAPTER  XIV 


The  way  is  long,  my  children  —  long  and  rough, 
The  moors  are  dreary,  and  the  woods  are  dark; 
But  he  that  creeps  from  cradle  on  to  grave, 
Unskilled  save  in  the  velvet  course  of  fortune. 
Hath  missed  the  discipline  of  noble  hearts. 


Old  Play. 


It  was  yet  early  in  the  day  when,  after  the  governor 
and  De  Valence  had  again  summoned  Bertram  to  their 
councils,  the  garrison  of  Douglas  was  mustered,  and  a 
nimiber  of  small  parties,  in  addition  to  those  already 
despatched  by  De  Valence  from  Hazelside,  were  sent  out 
to  scour  the  woods  in  pursuit  of  the  fugitives,  with  strict 
injunctions  to  treat  them,  if  overtaken,  with  the  utmost 
respect,  and  to  obey  their  commands,  keeping  an  eye, 
however,  on  the  place  where  they  might  take  refuge. 
To  facilitate  this  result,  some  who  were  men  of  discre- 
tion were  entrusted  with  the  secret  who  the  supposed 
pilgrim  and  the  fugitive  nun  really  were.  The  whole 
ground,  whether  forest  or  moorland,  within  many  miles 
of  Douglas  Castle  was  covered  and  traversed  by  parties, 
whose  anxiety  to  detect  the  fugitives  was  equal  to  the 
reward  for  their  safe  recovery  liberally  offered  by  De 
Walton  and  De  Valence.  They  spared  not,  meantime,  to 
make  such  inquiries  in  all  directions  as  might  bring  to 
light  any  machinations  of  the  Scottish  insurgents  which 
might  be  on  foot  in  those  wild  districts,  of  which,  as  we 
have  said  before,  De  Valence,  in  particular,  entertained 
strong  suspicions.  Their  instructions  were,  in  case  of  find- 
ing such,  to  proceed  against  the  persons  engaged,  by 

205 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

arrest  and  otherwise,  in  the  most  rigorous  manner,  such 
as  had  been  commanded  by  De  Walton  himself  at  the 
time  when  the  Black  Douglas  and  his  accomplices  had 
been  the  principal  objects  of  his  wakeful  suspicions. 
These  various  detachments  had  greatly  reduced  the 
strength  of  the  garrison;  yet,  although  numerous,  alert, 
and  despatched  in  every  direction,  they  had  not  the 
fortune  either  to  fall  on  the  trace  of  the  Lady  of  Berkely 
or  to  encounter  any  party  whatever  of  the  insurgent 
Scottish. 

Meanwhile  our  fugitives  had,  as  we  have  seen,  set  out 
from  the  convent  of  St.  Bride  under  the  guidance  of  a 
cavalier,  of  whom  the  Lady  Augusta  knew  nothing  save 
that  he  was  to  guide  their  steps  in  a  direction  where  they 
would  not  be  exposed  to  the  risk  of  being  overtaken.  At 
length  Margaret  de  Hautlieu  herself  spoke  of  the  sub- 
ject. 

'You  have  made  no  inquiry,'  she  said,  'Lady  Augusta, 
whither  you  are  travelling,  or  under  whose  charge,  al- 
though methinks  it  should  much  concern  you  to  know.' 

*  Is  it  not  enough  for  me  to  be  aware,'  answered  Lady 
Augusta,  'that  I  am  travelling,  kind  sister,  under  the 
protection  of  one  to  whom  you  yourself  trust  as  to  a 
friend ;  and  why  need  I  be  anxious  for  any  further  assur- 
ance of  my  safety? ' 

'Simply,'  said  Margaret  de  Hautheu,  'because  the 
persons  with  whom,  from  national  as  well  as  personal 
circumstances,  I  stand  connected  are  perhaps  not 
exactly  the  protectors  to  whom  you,  lady,  can  with  such 
perfect  safety  entrust  yourself.' 

'In  what  sense,'  said  the  Lady  Augusta,  'do  you  use 
these  words?' 

206 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'Because/  replied  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  'the  Bruce, 
the  Douglas,  Malcolm  Fleming,  and  others  of  that 
party,  although  they  are  incapable  of  abusing  such  an 
advantage  to  any  dishonourable  purpose,  might  never- 
theless, under  a  strong  temptation,  consider  you  as  an 
hostage  thrown  into  their  hands  by  Providence,  through 
whom  they  might  meditate  the  possibility  of  gaining 
some  benefit  to  their  dispersed  and  dispirited  party.' 

'They  might  make  me,'  answered  the  Lady  Augusta, 
'the  subject  of  such  a  treaty  when  I  was  dead,  but, 
believe  me,  never  while  I  drew  vital  breath.  Believe  me 
also  that,  with  whatever  pain,  shame,  or  agony,  I  would 
again  deliver  myself  up  to  the  power  of  De  Walton  — 
yes,  I  would  rather  put  myself  in  his  hands.  What  do  I 
say?  His!  I  would  rather  surrender  myself  to  the 
meanest  archer  of  my  native  country  than  combine  with 
its  foes  to  work  mischief  to  Merry  England  —  my  own 
England  —  that  country  which  is  the  envy  of  every 
other  country,  and  the  pride  of  all  who  can  term  them- 
selves her  natives ! ' 

'I  thought  that  your  choice  might  prove  so,'  said 
Lady  Margaret;  *and  since  you  have  honoured  me  with 
your  confidence,  gladly  would  I  provide  for  your  liberty 
by  placing  you  as  nearly  in  the  situation  which  you  your- 
self desire  as  my  poor  means  have  the  power  of  accom- 
plishing. In  half  an  hour  we  shall  be  in  danger  of  being 
taken  by  the  English  parties,  which  will  be  instantly  dis- 
persed in  every  direction  in  quest  of  us.  Now  take 
notice,  lady,  I  know  a  place  in  which  I  can  take  refuge 
with  my  friends  and  countrymen,  those  gallant  Scots, 
who  have  never  even  in  this  dishonoured  age  bent  the 
knee  to  Baal.  For  their  honour  —  their  nicety  of  honour, 

207 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  could  in  other  days  have  answered  with  my  own;  but 
of  late,  I  am  bound  to  tell  you,  they  have  been  put  to 
those  trials  by  which  the  most  generous  affections  may 
be  soured,  and  driven  to  a  species  of  frenzy  the  more 
wild  that  it  is  founded  originally  on  the  noblest  feelings. 
A  person  who  feels  himself  deprived  of  his  natural  birth- 
right, denounced,  exposed  to  confiscation  and  death, 
because  he  avouches  the  rights  of  his  king,  the  cause  of 
his  country,  ceases  on  his  part  to  be  nice  or  precise  in 
estimating  the  degree  of  retaliation  which  it  is  lawful 
for  him  to  exercise  in  the  requital  of  such  injuries;  and, 
believe  me,  bitterly  should  I  lament  having  guided  you 
into  a  situation  which  you  might  consider  afiiicting  or 
degrading.' 

'In  a  word,  then,'  said  the  English  lady,  'what  is  it 
you  apprehend  I  am  like  to  suffer  at  the  hands  of  your 
friends,  whom  I  must  be  excused  for  terming  rebels? ' 

'If,'  said  the  Sister  Ursula,  ''your  friends,  whom  I 
should  term  oppressors  and  tyrants,  take  our  lands  and 
our  lives,  seize  our  castles  and  confiscate  our  property, 
you  must  confess  that  the  rough  laws  of  war  indulge 
mine  with  the  privilege  of  retaliation.  There  can  be  no 
fear  that  such  men,  under  any  circumstances,  would 
ever  exercise  cruelty  or  insult  upon  a  lady  of  your  rank; 
but  it  is  another  thing  to  calculate  that  they  will  abstain 
from  such  means  of  extorting  advantage  from  your  cap- 
tivity as  are  common  in  warfare.  You  would  not,  I 
think,  wish  to  be  delivered  up  to  the  English,  on  consid- 
eration of  Sir  John  de  Walton  surrendering  the  Castle  of 
Douglas  to  its  natural  lord;  yet,  were  you  in  the  hands 
of  the  Bruce  or  Douglas,  although  I  can  answer  for  your 
being  treated  with  all  the  respect  which  they  have  the 

208 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

means  of  showing,  yet  I  own  their  putting  you  at  such  a 
ransom  might  be  by  no  means  unHkely.' 

*I  would  sooner  die,'  said  the  Lady  Berkely,  'than 
have  my  name  mixed  up  in  a  treaty  so  disgraceful;  and 
De  Walton's  reply  to  it  would,  I  am  certain,  be  to  strike 
the  head  from  the  messenger,  and  throw  it  from  the 
highest  tower  of  Douglas  Castle.' 

'Where,  then,  lady,  would  you  now  go/  said  Sister 
Ursula,  'were  the  choice  in  your  power?' 

'To  my  own  castle,'  answered  Lady  Augusta,  'where, 
if  necessary,  I  could  be  defended  even  against  the  King 
himself,  until  I  could  place  at  least  my  person  under  the 
protection  of  the  church.' 

'In  that  case,'  replied  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  'my 
power  of  rendering  you  assistance  is  only  precarious, 
yet  it  comprehends  a  choice  which  I  will  willingly  sub- 
mit to  your  decision,  notwithstanding  I  thereby  subject 
the  secrets  of  my  friends  to  some  risk  of  being  discovered 
and  frustrated.  But  the  confidence  which  you  have 
placed  in  me  imposes  on  me  the  necessity  of  committing 
to  you  a  like  trust.  It  rests  with  you  whether  you  will 
proceed  with  me  to  the  secret  rendezvous  of  the  Douglas 
and  his  friends,  which  I  may  be  blamed  for  making 
known,  and  there  take  your  chance  of  the  reception 
which  you  may  encounter,  since  I  cannot  warrant  you 
of  anything  save  honourable  treatment,  so  far  as  your 
person  is  concerned ;  or,  if  you  should  think  this  too  haz- 
ardous, make  the  best  of  your  way  at  once  for  the  Border, 
in  which  last  case  I  will  proceed  as  far  as  I  can  with  you 
towards  the  English  line,  and  then  leave  you  to  pursue 
your  journey,  and  to  obtain  a  guard  and  a  conductor 
among   your  own  countrymen.    Meantime,  it  will  be 

45  209 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

well  for  me  if  I  escape  being  taken,  since  the  abbot 
would  not  shrink  at  inflicting  upon  me  the  death  due  to 
an  apostate  nun.' 

'Such  cruelty,  my  sister,  could  hardly  be  inflicted 
upon  one  who  had  never  taken  the  religious  vows,  and 
who  still,  according  to  the  laws  of  the  church,  had  a 
right  to  make  a  choice  between  the  world  and  the  veil.' 

'Such  choice  as  they  gave  their  gallant  victims,'  said 
Lady  Margaret,  'who  have  fallen  into  English  hands 
during  these  merciless  wars  —  such  choice  as  they  gave 
to  Wallace,  the  Champion  of  Scotland;  such  as  they 
gave  to  Hay,  the  gentle  and  the  free;  to  Sommerville, 
the  flower  of  chivalry;  and  to  A thol,  the  blood  relation 
of  King  Edward  himself  —  all  of  whom  were  as  much 
traitors,  under  which  name  they  were  executed,  as  Mar- 
garet de  Hautlieu  is  an  apostate  nun,  and  subject  to  the 
rule  of  the  cloister.' 

She  spoke  with  some  eagerness,  for  she  felt  as  if  the 
English  lady  imputed  to  her  more  coldness  than  she  was, 
in  such  doubtful  circumstances,  conscious  of  manifest- 
ing. 

'And  after  all,'  she  proceeded,  'you,  Lady  Augusta 
de  Berkely,  what  do  you  venture,  if  you  run  the  risk  of 
falling  into  the  hands  of  your  lover?  What  dreadful  risk 
do  you  incur?  You  need  not,  methinks,  fear  being  im- 
mured between  four  walls,  with  a  basket  of  bread  and  a 
cruise  of  water,  which,  were  I  seized,  would  be  the  only 
support  allowed  to  me  for  the  short  space  that  my  life 
would  be  prolonged.  Nay,  even  were  you  to  be  betrayed 
to  the  rebel  Scots,  as  you  call  them,  a  captivity  among 
the  hills,  sweetened  by  the  hope  of  deliverance,  and  ren- 
dered tolerable  by  all  the  alleviations  which  the  circum- 

210 


1 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

stances  of  your  captors  allowed  them  the  means  of  sup- 
plying, were  not,  I  think,  a  lot  so  very  hard  to  endure.' 

'Nevertheless,'  answered  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  'fright- 
ful enough  it  must  have  appeared  to  me,  since,  to  fly 
from  such.  I  threw  myself  upon  your  guidance.' 

'And  whatever  you  think  or  suspect,'  answered  the 
novice,  '  I  am  as  true  to  you  as  ever  was  one  maiden  to 
another;  and  as  sure  as  ever  Sister  Ursula  was  true  to  her 
vows,  although  they  were  never  completed,  so  will  I  be 
faithful  to  your  secret,  even  at  the  risk  of  betraying  my 
own.  Hearken,  lady!'  she  said,  suddenly  pausing,  'do 
you  hear  that? ' 

The  sound  to  which  she  alluded  was  the  same  imita- 
tion of  the  cry  of  an  owlet  which  the  lady  had  before 
heard  under  the  walls  of  the  convent. 

'These  sounds,'  said  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  *  announce 
that  one  is  near  more  able  than  I  am  to  direct  us  in  this 
matter.  I  must  go  forward  and  speak  with  him;  and 
this  man,  our  guide,  will  remain  by  you  for  a  little  space; 
nor,  when  he  quits  your  bridle,  need  you  wait  for  any 
other  signal,  but  ride  forward  on  the  woodland  path, 
and  obey  the  advice  and  directions  which  will  be  given 
you.' 

'  Stay  —  stay,  Sister  Ursula ! '  cried  the  Lady  de 
Berkely  —  '  abandon  me  not  in  this  moment  of  uncer- 
tainty and  distress!' 

'It  must  be,  for  the  sake  of  both,'  returned  Margaret 
de  Hautlieu.  '  I  also  am  in  uncertainty,  I  also  am  in  dis- 
tress, and  patience  and  obedience  are  the  only  virtues 
which  can  save  us  both.' 

So  saying,  she  struck  her  horse  with  the  riding-rod, 
and,  moving  briskly  forward,  disappeared  among  the 

211 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

boughs  of  a  tangled  thicket.  The  Lady  of  Berkely  would 
have  followed  her  companion,  but  the  cavalier  who 
attended  them  laid  a  strong  hand  upon  the  bridle  of  her 
palfrey,  with  a  look  which  impHed  that  he  would  not 
permit  her  to  proceed  in  that  direction.  Terrified,  there- 
fore, though  she  could  not  exactly  state  a  reason  why, 
the  Lady  of  Berkely  remained  with  her  eyes  fixed  upon 
the  thicket,  instinctively,  as  it  were,  expecting  to  see  a 
band  of  English  archers,  or  rugged  Scottish  insurgents, 
issue  from  its  tangled  skirts,  and  doubtful  which  she 
should  have  most  considered  as  the  objects  of  her  terror. 
In  the  distress  of  her  uncertainty,  she  again  attempted 
to  move  forward,  but  the  stern  check  which  her  at- 
tendant again  bestowed  upon  her  bridle  proved  suffi- 
ciently that,  in  restraining  her  wishes,  the  stranger  was 
not  likely  to  spare  the  strength  which  he  certainly  pos- 
sessed. At  length,  after  some  ten  minutes  had  elapsed, 
the  cavalier  withdrew  his  hand  from  her  bridle,  and 
pointing  with  his  lance  towards  the  thicket,  through 
which  there  winded  a  narrow,  scarce  visible  path,  seemed 
to  intimate  to  the  lady  that  her  road  lay  in  that  direc- 
tion, and  that  he  would  no  longer  prevent  her  following 
it. 

'Do  you  not  go  with  me?'  said  the  lady,  who,  having 
been  accustomed  to  this  man's  company  since  they  left 
the  convent,  had  by  degrees  come  to  look  upon  him  as  a 
sort  of  protector.  He,  however,  gravely  shook  his  head,  as 
if  to  excuse  complying  with  a  request  which  it  was  not  in 
his  power  to  grant;  and,  turning  his  steed  in  a  different 
direction,  retired  at  a  pace  which  soon  carried  him  from 
her  sight.  She  had  then  no  alternative  but  to  take  the 
path  of  the  thicket  which  had  been  followed  by  Mar- 

212 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

garet  de  Hautlieu,  nor  did  she  pursue  it  long  before  com- 
ing in  sight  of  a  singular  spectacle. 

The  trees  grew  wider  as  the  lady  advanced,  and  when 
she  entered  the  thicket  she  perceived  that,  though 
hedged  in  as  it  were  by  an  inclosure  of  copsewood,  it  was 
in  the  interior  altogether  occupied  by  a  few  of  the  magni- 
ficent trees,  such  as  seemed  to  have  been  the  ancestors 
of  the  forest,  and  which,  though  few  in  number,  were 
sufficient  to  overshade  all  the  unoccupied  ground  by  the 
great  extent  of  their  complicated  branches.  Beneath 
one  of  these  lay  stretched  something  of  a  grey  colour, 
which,  as  it  drew  itself  together,  exhibited  the  figure  of 
a  man  sheathed  in  armour,  but  strangely  accoutred,  and 
in  a  manner  so  bizarre  as  to  indicate  some  of  the  wild 
fancies  peculiar  to  the  knights  of  that  period.  His 
armour  was  ingeniously  painted  so  as  to  represent  a 
skeleton,  the  ribs  being  constituted  by  the  corslet  and 
its  back-piece.  The  shield  represented  an  owl  with  its 
wings  spread,  a  device  which  was  repeated  upon  the 
helmet,  which  appeared  to  be  completely  covered  by  an 
image  of  the  same  bird  of  ill  omen.  But  that  which  was 
particularly  calculated  to  excite  surprise  in  the  spectator 
was  the  great  height  and  thinness  of  the  figure,  which, 
as  it  arose  from  the  ground  and  placed  itself  in  an  erect 
posture,  seemed  rather  to  resemble  an  apparition  in  the 
act  of  extricating  itself  from  the  grave  than  that  of  an 
ordinary  man  rising  upon  his  feet.  The  horse,  too,  upon 
which  the  lady  rode  started  back  and  snorted,  either  at 
the  sudden  change  of  posture  of  this  ghastly  specimen 
of  chivalry,  or  disagreeably  affected  by  some  odour 
which  accompanied  his  presence.  The  lady  herself  mani- 
fested some  alarm,  for  although  she  did  not  utterly 

213 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

believe  she  was  in  the  presence  of  a  supernatural  being, 
yet,  among  all  the  strange  half -frantic  disguises  of  chiv- 
alry, this  was  assuredly  the  most  uncouth  which  she  had 
ever  seen;  and  considering  how  often  the  knights  of  the 
period  pushed  their  dreamy  fancies  to  the  borders  of 
insanity,  it  seemed  at  best  no  very  safe  adventure  to  meet 
one  accoutred  in  the  emblems  of  the  King  of  Terrors 
himself,  alone,  and  in  the  midst  of  a  wild  forest.  Be  the 
knight's  character  and  purposes  what  they  might,  she 
resolved,  however,  to  accost  him  in  the  language  and 
manner  observed  in  romances  upon  such  occasions,  in 
the  hope  even  that  if  he  were  a  madman  he  might  prove 
a  peaceable  one,  and  accessible  to  civility. 

*Sir  knight,'  she  said,  in  as  firm  a  tone  as  she  could 
assume,  'right  sorry  am  I  if,  by  my  hasty  approach,  I 
have  disturbed  your  solitary  meditations.  My  horse, 
sensible,  I  think,  of  the  presence  of  yours,  brought  me 
hither,  without  my  being  aware  whom  or  what  I  was  to 
encounter.' 

'I  am  one,'  answered  the  stranger,  in  a  solemn  tone, 
'whom  few  men  seek  to  meet,  till  the  time  comes  that 
they  can  avoid  me  no  longer.' 

'You  speak,  sir  knight,'  replied  the  Lady  de  Berkely, 
'  according  to  the  dismal  character  of  which  it  has  pleased 
you  to  assume  the  distinction.  May  I  appeal  to  one 
whose  exterior  is  so  formidable,  for  the  purpose  of  re- 
questing some  directions  to  guide  me  through  this  wild 
wood;  as,  for  instance,  what  is  the  name  of  the  nearest 
castle,  town,  or  hostelry,  and  by  what  course  I  am  best 
likely  to  reach  such? ' 

*  It  is  a  singular  audacity,'  answered  the  Knight  of  the 
Tomb,  'that  would  enter  into  conversation  with  him 

214 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

who  is  termed  the  Inexorable,  the  Unsparing,  and  the 
Pitiless,  whom  even  the  most  miserable  forbears  to  call 
to  his  assistance,  lest  his  prayers  should  be  too  soon 
answered.' 

'Sir  knight,'  replied  the  Lady  Augusta,  'the  character 
which  you  have  assumed,  unquestionably  for  good  rea- 
sons, dictates  to  you  a  peculiar  course  of  speech;  but 
although  your  part  is  a  sad  one,  it  does  not,  I  should  sup- 
pose, render  it  necessary  for  you  to  refuse  those  acts  of 
civility  to  which  you  must  have  bound  yourself  in  tak- 
ing the  high  vows  of  chivalry,' 

'If  you  will  trust  to  my  guidance,'  replied  the  ghastly 
figure,  'there  is  only  one  condition  upon  which  I  can 
grant  you  the  information  which  you  require ;  and  that 
is,  that  you  follow  my  footsteps  without  any  questions 
asked  as  to  the  tendency  of  our  journey.' 

'I  suppose  I  must  submit  to  your  conditions,'  she 
answered,  'if  you  are  indeed  pleased  to  take  upon  your- 
self the  task  of  being  my  guide.  In  my  heart  I  conceive 
you  to  be  one  of  the  unhappy  gentlemen  of  Scotland  who 
are  now  in  arms,  as  they  say,  for  the  defence  of  their 
liberties.  A  rash  undertaking  has  brought  me  within 
the  sphere  of  your  influence,  and  now  the  only  favour  I 
have  to  request  of  you,  against  whom  I  never  did  nor 
planned  any  evil,  is  the  guidance  which  your  knowledge 
of  the  country  permits  you  easily  to  afford  me  in  my  way 
to  the  frontiers  of  England.  Believe  that  what  I  may 
see  of  your  haunts  or  of  your  practices  shall  be  to  me 
things  invisible,  as  if  they  were  actually  concealed  by 
the  sepulchre  itself  of  the  king  of  which  it  has  pleased 
you  to  assume  the  attributes;  and  if  a  sum  of  money, 
enough  to  be  the  ransom  of  a  wealthy  earl,  will  purchase 

215 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

such  a  favour  at  need,  such  a  ransom  will  be  frankly  paid, 
and  with  as  much  fidelity  as  ever  it  was  rendered  by  a 
prisoner  to  the  knight  by  whom  he  was  taken.  Do  not 
reject  me,  princely  Bruce  —  noble  Douglas  —  if  indeed 
it  is  to  either  of  these  that  I  address  myself  in  this  my 
last  extremity ;  men  speak  of  both  as  fearful  enemies,  but 
generous  knights  and  faithful  friends.  Let  me  entreat  you 
to  remember  how  much  you  would  wish  your  own  friends 
and  connexions  to  meet  with  compassion  under  similar 
circumstances  at  the  hands  of  the  knights  of  England.' 
'  And  have  they  done  so? '  replied  the  knight,  in  a  voice 
more  gloomy  than  before,  'or  do  you  act  wisely,  while 
imploring  the  protection  of  one  whom  you  believe  to  be 
a  true  Scottish  knight,  for  no  other  reason  than  the 
extreme  and  extravagant  misery  of  his  appearance — is 
it,  I  say,  well  or  wise  to  remind  him  of  the  mode  in  which 
the  lords  of  England  have  treated  the  lovely  maidens 
and  the  high-born  dames  of  Scotland?  Have  not  their 
prison  cages  been  suspended  from  the  battlements  of 
castles,  that  their  captivity  might  be  kept  in  view  of 
every  base  burgher  who  should  desire  to  look  upon  the 
miseries  of  the  noblest  peeresses,  yea,  even  the  queen  of 
Scotland?  ^  Is  this  a  recollection  which  can  inspire  a 
Scottish  knight  with  compassion  towards  an  English 
lady?  or  is  it  a  thought  which  can  do  aught  but  swell  the 
deeply  sworn  hatred  of  Edward  Plantagenet,  the  author 
of  these  evils,  that  boils  in  every  drop  of  Scottish  blood 
which  still  feels  the  throb  of  life?  No;  it  is  all  you  can 
expect  if,  cold  and  pitiless  as  the  sepulchre  I  represent,  I 
leave  you  unassisted  in  the  helpless  condition  in  which 
you  describe  yourself  to  be.' 

'  See  Note  7. 
216 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'You  will  not  be  so  inhuman,'  replied  the  lady;  'in 
doing  so,  you  must  surrender  every  right  to  honest  fame 
which  you  have  won  either  by  sword  or  lance.  You 
must  surrender  every  pretence  to  that  justice  which 
affects  the  merit  of  supporting  the  weak  against  the 
strong.  You  must  make  it  your  principle  to  avenge 
the  wrongs  and  tyranny  of  Edward  Plantagenet  upon 
the  dames  and  damosels  of  England  who  have  neither 
access  to  his  councils  nor  perhaps  give  him  their  appro- 
bation in  his  wars  against  Scotland.' 

'It  would  not,  then,'  said  the  Knight  of  the  Sepulchre, 
'  induce  you  to  depart  from  your  request,  should  I  tell  you 
the  evils  to  which  you  would  subject  yourself  should  we 
fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English  troops,  and  should  they 
find  you  under  such  ill-omened  protection  as  my  own?' 

'Be  assured,'  said  the  lady,  'the  consideration  of  such 
an  event  does  not  in  the  least  shake  my  resolution  or 
desire  of  confiding  in  your  protection.  You  may  prob- 
ably know  who  I  am,  and  may  judge  how  far  even  Ed- 
ward would  hold  himself  entitled  to  extend  punishment 
towards  me.' 

'How  am  I  to  know  you,'  replied  the  ghastly  cavalier, 
'or  your  circumstances?  They  must  be  extraordinary 
indeed  if  they  could  form  a  check,  either  of  justice  or 
humanity,  upon  the  revengeful  feelings  of  Edward.  All 
who  know  him  are  well  assured  that  it  is  no  ordinary 
motive  that  will  induce  him  to  depart  from  the  indul- 
gence of  his  evil  temper.  But  be  it  as  it  may,  you,  lady, 
if  a  lady  you  be,  throw  yourself  as  a  burden  upon  me, 
and  I  must  discharge  myself  of  my  trust  as  I  best  may; 
for  this  purpose  you  must  be  guided  implicitly  by  my 
directions,  which  will  be  given  after  the  fashion  of  those 

217 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  the  spiritual  world,  being  intimations,  rather  than 
detailed  instructions,  for  your  conduct,  and  expressed 
rather  by  commands  than  by  any  reason  or  argument. 
In  this  way  it  is  possible  that  I  may  be  of  service  to  you; 
in  any  other  case,  it  is  most  likely  that  I  may  fail  you  at 
need,  and  melt  from  your  side  like  a  phantom  which 
dreads  the  approach  of  day.' 

'You  cannot  be  so  cruel ! '  answered  the  lady.  *  A  gen- 
tleman, a  knight,  and  a  nobleman  —  and  I  persuade 
myself  I  speak  to  all  —  hath  duties  which  he  cannot 
abandon.' 

'He  has,  I  grant  it,  and  they  are  most  sacred  to  me,' 
answered  the  Spectral  Knight;  'but  I  have  also  duties 
whose  obligations  are  doubly  binding,  and  to  which  I 
must  sacrifice  those  which  would  otherwise  lead  me  to  de- 
vote myself  to  your  rescue.  The  only  question  is,  whether 
you  feel  inclined  to  accept  my  protection  on  the  limited 
terms  on  which  alone  I  can  extend  it,  or  whether  you 
deem  it  better  that  each  go  their  own  way,  and  limit 
themselves  to  their  own  resources,  and  trust  the  rest  to 
Providence? ' 

'Alas!'  replied  the  lady,  'beset  and  hard  pressed  as  I 
am,  to  ask  me  to  form  a  resolution  for  myself  is  like  call- 
ing on  a  wretch,  in  the  act  of  falling  from  a  precipice,  to 
form  a  calm  judgment  by  what  twig  he  may  best  gain 
the  chance  of  breaking  his  fall.  His  answer  must  neces- 
sarily be,  that  he  will  cling  to  that  which  he  can  easiest 
lay  hold  of,  and  trust  the  rest  to  Providence.  I  accept, 
therefore,  your  offer  of  protection,  in  the  modified  way 
you  are  pleased  to  limit  it,  and  I  put  my  faith  in  Heaven 
and  in  you.  To  aid  me  effectually,  however,  you  must 
know  my  name  and  my  circumstances.' 

218 


I 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'All  these,'  answered  the  Knight  of  the  Sepulchre, 
*have  already  been  told  me  by  your  late  companion;  for 
deem  not,  young  lady,  that  either  beauty,  rank,  extended 
domains,  unlimited  wealth,  or  the  highest  accomplish- 
ments can  weigh  anything  in  the  consideration  of  him 
who  wears  the  trappings  of  the  tomb,  and  whose  affec- 
tions and  desires  are  long  buried  in  the  charnel-house.' 

'May  your  faith,'  said  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely, 
*be  as  steady  as  your  words  appear  severe,  and  I  submit 
to  your  guidance  without  the  least  doubt  or  fear  that  it 
will  prove  otherwise  than  as  I  venture  to  hope.' 


CHAPTER  XV 

Like  the  dog  following  its  master,  when  engaged  in 
training  him  to  the  sport  in  which  he  desires  he  should 
excel,  the  lady  Augusta  felt  herself  occasionally  treated 
with  a  severity  calculated  to  impress  upon  her  the  most 
implicit  obedience  and  attention  to  the  Knight  of  the 
Tomb,  in  whom  she  had  speedily  persuaded  herself  she 
saw  a  principal  man  among  the  retainers  of  Douglas,  if 
not  James  of  Douglas  himself.  Still,  however,  the  ideas 
which  the  lady  had  formed  of  the  redoubted  Douglas 
were  those  of  a  knight  highly  accomplished  in  the  duties 
of  chivalry,  devoted  in  particular  to  the  service  of  the  fair 
sex,  and  altogether  unlike  the  personage  with  whom  she 
found  herself  so  strangely  united,  or  rather  for  the  pre- 
sent enthralled  to.  Nevertheless,  when,  as  if  to  abridge 
further  communication,  he  turned  short  into  one  of  the 
mazes  of  the  wood,  and  seemed  to  adopt  a  pace  which, 
from  the  nature  of  the  ground,  the  horse  on  which  the 
Lady  Augusta  was  mounted  had  difficulty  to  keep  up  with, 
she  followed  him  with  the  alarm  and  speed  of  the  young 
spaniel,  which,  from  fear  rather  than  fondness,  endeav- 
ours to  keep  up  with  the  track  of  its  severe  master.  The 
simile,  it  is  true,  is  not  a  very  polite  one,  nor  entirely 
becoming  an  age  when  women  were  worshipped  with  a 
certain  degree  of  devotion;  but  such  circumstances  as 
the  present  were  also  rare,  and  the  Lady  Augusta  de 
Berkely  could  not  but  persuade  herself  that  the  terrible 
Champion,  whose  name  had  been  so  long  the  theme  of 

220 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

her  anxiety,  and  the  terror  indeed  of  the  whole  country, 
might  be  able,  some  way  or  other,  to  accompUsh  her 
deliverance.  She,  therefore,  exerted  herself  to  the  ut- 
most so  as  to  keep  pace  with  the  phantom-like  appari- 
tion, and  followed  the  knight,  as  the  evening  shadow 
keeps  watch  upon  the  belated  rustic. 

As  the  lady  obviously  suffered  under  the  degree  of 
exertion  necessary  to  keep  her  palfrey  from  stumbling 
in  these  steep  and  broken  paths,  the  Knight  of  the  Tomb 
slackened  his  pace,  looked  anxiously  around  him,  and 
muttered  apparently  to  himself,  though  probably  in- 
tended for  his  companion's  ear,  'There  is  no  occasion  for 
so  much  haste.' 

He  proceeded  at  a  slower  rate  until  they  seemed  to  be 
on  the  brink  of  a  ravine,  being  one  of  many  irregularities 
on  the  surface  of  the  ground,  effected  by  the  sudden  tor- 
rents peculiar  to  that  country,  and  which,  winding  among 
the  trees  and  copsewood,  formed,  as  it  were,  a  net  of 
places  of  concealment,  opening  into  each  other,  so  that 
there  was  perhaps  no  place  in  the  world  so  fit  for  the  pur- 
pose of  ambuscade.  The  spot  where  the  Borderer  Turn- 
bull  had  made  his  escape  at  the  hunting-match  was  one 
specimen  of  this  broken  country,  and  perhaps  connected 
itself  with  the  various  thickets  and  passes  through  which 
the  knight  and  pilgrim  occasionally  seemed  to  take  their 
way,  though  that  ravine  was  at  a  considerable  distance 
from  their  present  route. 

Meanwhile  the  knight  led  the  way,  as  if  rather  with 
the  purpose  of  bewildering  the  Lady  Augusta  amidst 
these  interminable  woods  than  following  any  exact  or 
fixed  path.  Here  they  ascended,  and  anon  appeared  to 
descend  in  the  same  direction,  finding  only  boundless 

221 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

wildernesses  and  varied  combinations  of  tangled  wood- 
land scenery.  Such  part  of  the  country  as  seemed  ar- 
able the  knight  appeared  carefully  to  avoid;  yet  he 
could  not  direct  his  course  with  so  much  certainty  but 
that  he  occasionally  crossed  the  path  of  inhabitants  and 
cultivators,  who  showed  a  consciousness  of  so  singular  a 
presence,  but  never,  as  the  lady  observed,  evinced  any 
symptom  of  recognition.  The  inference  was  obvious, 
that  the  Spectre  Knight  was  known  in  the  country,  and 
that  he  possessed  adherents  or  accomphces  there,  who 
were  at  least  so  far  his  friends  as  to  avoid  giving  any 
alarm,  which  might  be  the  means  of  his  discovery.  The 
well-imitated  cry  of  the  night-owl,  too  frequent  a  guest 
in  the  wilderness  that  its  call  should  be  a  subject  of  sur- 
prise, seemed  to  be  a  signal  generally  understood  among 
them;  for  it  was  heard  in  different  parts  of  the  wood,  and 
the  Lady  Augusta,  experienced  in  such  journeys  by  her 
former  travels  under  the  guidance  of  the  minstrel  Ber- 
tram, was  led  to  observe  that,  on  hearing  such  wild  notes, 
her  guide  changed  the  direction  of  his  course,  and  betook 
himself  to  paths  which  led  through  deeper  wilds  and 
more  impenetrable  thickets.  This  happened  so  often, 
that  a  new  alarm  came  upon  the  unfortunate  pilgrim, 
which  suggested  other  motives  of  terror.  Was  she  not 
the  confidante,  and  almost  the  tool,  of  some  artful  de- 
sign, laid  with  a  view  to  an  extensive  operation,  which 
was  destined  to  terminate,  as  the  efforts  of  Douglas  had 
before  done,  in  the  surprise  of  his  hereditary  castle,  the 
massacre  of  the  English  garrison,  and  finally  in  the  dis- 
honour and  death  of  that  Sir  John  de  Walton  upon  whose 
fate  she  had  long  believed,  or  taught  herself  to  believe, 
that  her  own  was  dependent? 

222 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

It  no  sooner  flashed  across  the  mind  of  the  Lady 
Augusta  that  she  was  engaged  in  some  such  conspiracy 
with  a  Scottish  insurgent  than  she  shuddered  at  the  con- 
sequences of  the  dark  transactions  in  which  she  had  now 
become  involved,  and  which  appeared  to  have  a  ten- 
dency so  very  different  from  what  she  had  at  first  appre- 
hended. 

The  hours  of  the  morning  of  this  remarkable  day, 
being  that  of  Palm  Sunday,  were  thus  drawn  out  in 
wandering  from  place  to  place;  while  the  Lady  de 
Berkely  occasionally  interposed  by  petitions  for  liberty, 
which  she  endeavoured  to  express  in  the  most  moving 
and  pathetic  manner,  and  by  offers  of  wealth  and  treas- 
ures, to  which  no  answer  whatever  was  returned  by  her 
strange  guide. 

At  length,  as  if  worn  out  by  his  captive's  importunity, 
the  knight,  coming  close  up  to  the  bridle-rein  of  the 
Lady  Augusta,  said  in  a  solemn  tone  — 

'  I  am,  as  you  may  well  believe,  none  of  those  knights 
who  roam  through  wood  and  wild  seeking  adventures,  by 
which  I  may  obtain  grace  in  the  eyes  of  a  fair  lady.  Yet 
will  I  to  a  certain  degree  grant  the  request  which  thou 
dost  solicit  so  anxiously,  and  the  arbitration  of  thy  fate 
shall  depend  upon  the  pleasure  of  him  to  whose  will  thou 
hast  expressed  thyself  ready  to  submit  thine  own.  I 
will,  on  our  arrival  at  the  place  of  our  destination,  which 
is  now  at  hand,  write  to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  send 
my  letter,  together  with  thy  fair  self,  by  a  special  mes- 
senger. He  will,  no  doubt,  speedily  attend  our  sum- 
mons, and  thou  shalt  thyself  be  satisfied  that  even  he 
who  has  as  yet  appeared  deaf  to  entreaty,  and  insensible 
to  earthly  affections,  has  still  some  sympathy  for  beauty 

223 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

and  for  virtue.  I  will  put  the  choice  of  safety  and  thy 
future  happiness  into  thine  own  hands  and  those  of  the 
man  whom  thou  hast  chosen;  and  thou  mayest  select 
which  thou  wilt  betwixt  those  and  misery.' 

While  he  thus  spoke,  one  of  those  ravines  or  clefts  in 
the  earth  seemed  to  yawn  before  them,  and  entering  it  at 
the  upper  end,  the  Spectre  Knight,  with  an  attention 
which  he  had  not  yet  shown,  guided  the  lady's  courser 
by  the  rein  down  the  broken  and  steep  path  by  which 
alone  the  bottom  of  the  tangled  dingle  was  accessible. 

When  placed  on  firm  ground  after  the  dangers  of  a 
descent,  in  which  her  palfrey  seemed  to  be  sustained  by 
the  personal  strength  and  address  of  the  singular  being 
who  had  hold  of  the  bridle,  the  lady  looked  with  some 
astonishment  at  a  place  so  well  adapted  for  concealment 
as  that  which  she  had  now  reached.  It  appeared  evi- 
dent that  it  was  used  for  this  purpose,  for  more  than  one 
stifled  answer  was  given  to  a  very  low  bugle-note  emitted 
by  the  Knight  of  the  Tomb ;  and  when  the  same  note  was 
repeated,  about  half  a  score  of  armed  men,  some  wearing 
the  dress  of  soldiers,  others  those  of  shepherds  and  agri- 
culturists, showed  themselves  imperfectly,  as  if  acknow- 
ledging the  summons. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

*Hail  to  you,  my  gallant  friends ! '  said  the  Knight  of  the 
Tomb  to  his  companions,  who  seemed  to  welcome  him 
with  the  eagerness  of  men  engaged  in  the  same  perilous 
undertaking.  'The  winter  has  passed  over,  the  festival 
of  Palm  Sunday  is  come,  and  as  surely  as  the  ice  and 
snow  of  this  season  shall  not  remain  to  chill  the  earth 
through  the  ensuing  summer,  so  surely  we,  in  a  few  hours, 
keep  our  word  to  those  Southern  braggarts,  who  think 
their  language  of  boasting  and  mahce  has  as  much  force 
over  our  Scottish  bosoms  as  the  blast  possesses  over  the 
autumn  fruits;  but  it  is  not  so.  While  we  choose  to 
remain  concealed,  they  may  as  vainly  seek  to  descry  us 
as  a  housewife  would  search  for  the  needle  she  has 
dropped  among  the  withered  foliage  of  yon  gigantic  oak. 
Yet  a  few  hours,  and  the  lost  needle  shall  become  the 
exterminating  sword  of  the  Genius  of  Scotland,  aveng- 
ing ten  thousand  injuries,  and  especially  the  life  of  the 
gallant  Lord  Douglas,  cruelly  done  to  death  as  an  exile 
from  his  native  country.' 

An  exclamation  between  a  yell  and  a  groan  burst  from 
the  assembled  retainers  of  Douglas,  upon  being  reminded 
of  the  recent  death  of  their  chieftain;  while  they  seemed 
at  the  same  time  sensible  of  the  necessity  of  making  lit- 
tle noise,  lest  they  should  give  the  alarm  to  some  of  the 
numerous  English  parties  which  were  then  traversing 
different  parts  of  the  forest.  The  acclamation,  so  cau- 
46  225 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

tiously  uttered,  had  scarce  died  away  in  silence,  when 
the  Knight  of  the  Tomb,  or,  to  call  him  by  his  proper 
name,  Sir  James  Douglas,  again  addressed  his  handful 
of  faithful  followers. 

*  One  effort,  my  friends,  may  yet  be  made  to  end  our 
strife  with  the  Southron  without  bloodshed.  Fate  has 
within  a  few  hours  thrown  into  my  power  the  young 
heiress  of  Berkely,  for  whose  sake  it  is  said  Sir  John  de 
Walton  keeps  with  such  obstinacy  the  castle  which  is 
mine  by  inheritance.  Is  there  one  among  you  who  dare 
go,  as  the  honourable  escort  of  Augusta  de  Berkely,  bear- 
ing a  letter,  explaining  the  terms  on  which  I  am  willing 
to  restore  her  to  her  lover,  to  freedom,  and  to  her  Eng- 
lish lordships?' 

'  If  there  is  none  other,'  said  a  tall  man,  dressed  in  the 
tattered  attire  of  a  woodsman,  and  being,  in  fact,  no 
other  than  the  very  Michael  Turnbull  who  had  already 
given  so  extraordinary  a  proof  of  his  undaunted  man- 
hood, '  I  will  gladly  be  the  person  who  will  be  the  lady's 
henchman  on  this  expedition.' 

'Thou  art  never  wanting,'  said  the  Douglas,  'where  a 
manly  deed  is  to  be  done;  but  remember,  this  lady  must 
pledge  to  us  her  word  and  oath  that  she  will  hold  herself 
our  faithful  prisoner,  rescue  or  no  rescue;  that  she  will 
consider  herself  as  pledged  for  the  life,  freedom,  and  fair 
usage  of  Michael  Turnbull;  and  that,  if  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton refuse  my  terms,  she  must  hold  herself  obliged  to 
return  with  Turnbull  to  our  presence,  in  order  to  be  dis- 
posed of  at  our  pleasure.' 

There  was  much  in  these  conditions  which  struck  the 
Lady  Augusta  with  natural  doubt  and  horror;  neverthe- 
less, strange  as  it  may  seem,  the  declaration  of  the  Doug- 

226 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

las  gave  a  species  of  decision  to  her  situation  which 
might  have  otherwise  been  unattainable;  and,  from  the 
high  opinion  which  she  entertained  of  the  Douglas's 
chivalry,  she  could  not  bring  herself  to  think  that  any 
part  which  he  might  play  in  the  approaching  drama 
would  be  other  than  that  which  a  perfect  good  knight 
would,  under  all  circumstances,  maintain  towards  his 
enemy.  Even  with  respect  to  De  Walton  she  felt  herself 
relieved  of  a  painful  difficulty.  The  idea  of  her  being  dis- 
covered by  the  knight  himself  in  a  male  disguise  had 
preyed  upon  her  spirits;  and  she  felt  as  if  guilty  of  a 
departure  from  the  laws  of  womanhood,  in  having 
extended  her  favour  towards  him  beyond  maidenly 
limits  —  a  step,  too,  which  might  tend  to  lessen  her  in 
the  eyes  of  the  lover  for  whom  she  had  hazarded  so  much. 

The  heart,  she  said,  is  lightly  prized 

That  is  but  lightly  won; 
And  long  shall  mourn  the  heartless  man 

That  leaves  his  love  too  soon. 

On  the  other  hand,  to  be  brought  before  him  as  a  prisoner 
was  indeed  a  circumstance  equally  perplexing  and  un- 
pleasing,  but  it  was  one  which  was  beyond  her  control, 
and  the  Douglas,  into  whose  hands  she  had  fallen, 
appeared  to  represent  the  deity  in  the  play,  whose  en- 
trance was  almost  sufficient  to  bring  its  perplexities  to  a 
conclusion;  she  therefore  not  unwillingly  submitted  to 
take  what  oaths  and  promises  were  required  by  the 
party  in  whose  hands  she  found  herself,  and  accordingly 
engaged  to  be  a  true  prisoner,  whatever  might  occur. 
Meantime,  she  strictly  obeyed  the  directions  of  those 
who  had  her  motions  at  command,  devoutly  praying 
that  circumstances,  in  themselves  so  adverse,  might 

227 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

nevertheless  work  together  for  the  safety  of  her  lover 
and  her  own  freedom. 

A  pause  ensued,  during  which  a  slight  repast  was 
placed  before  the  Lady  Augusta,  who  was  well-nigh 
exhausted  with  the  fatigues  of  her  journey. 

Douglas  and  his  partizans,  meanwhile,  whispered 
together,  as  if  unwilling  she  should  hear  their  confer- 
ence ;  while,  to  purchase  their  good-will,  if  possible,  she 
studiously  avoided  every  appearance  of  listening. 

After  some  conversation,  Turnbull,  who  appeared  to 
consider  the  lady  as  peculiarly  his  charge,  said  to  her  in  a 
harsh  voice,  *Do  not  fear,  lady;  no  wrong  shall  be  done 
you;  nevertheless,  you  must  be  content  for  a  space  to  be 
blindfolded.' 

She  submitted  to  this  in  silent  terror;  and  the  trooper, 
wrapping  part  of  a  mantle  round  her  head,  did  not  assist 
her  to  remount  her  palfrey,  but  lent  her  his  arm  to  sup- 
port her  in  this  blinded  state. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

The  ground  which  they  traversed  was,  as  Lady  Augusta 
could  feel,  very  broken  and  uneven,  and  sometimes,  as 
she  thought,  encumbered  with  ruins,  which  were  difficult 
to  surmount.  The  strength  of  her  comrade  assisted  her 
forward  on  such  occasions;  but  his  help  was  so  roughly 
administered  that  the  lady  once  or  twice,  in  fear  or  suf- 
fering, was  compelled  to  groan  or  sigh  heavily,  what- 
ever was  her  desire  to  suppress  such  evidence  of  the 
apprehension  which  she  underwent,  or  the  pain  which 
she  endured.  Presently,  upon  an  occasion  of  this  kind, 
she  was  distinctly  sensible  that  the  rough  woodsman 
was  removed  from  her  side,  and  another  of  the  party 
substituted  in  his  stead,  whose  voice,  more  gentle  than 
that  of  his  companion,  she  thought  she  had  lately  heard. 

'Noble  lady,'  were  the  words,  'fear  not  the  slightest 
injury  at  our  hands,  and  accept  of  my  ministry  instead 
of  that  of  my  henchman,  who  has  gone  forward  with  our 
letter;  do  not  think  me  presuming  on  my  situation  if  I 
bear  you  in  my  arms  through  ruins  where  you  could  not 
easily  move  alone  and  blindfolded.' 

At  the  same  time,  the  Lady  Augusta  Berkely  felt  her- 
self raised  from  the  earth  in  the  strong  arms  of  a  man, 
and  borne  onward  with  the  utmost  gentleness,  without 
the  necessity  of  making  those  painful  exertions  which 
had  been  formerly  required.  She  was  ashamed  of  her 
situation;  but,  however  delicate,  it  was  no  time  to  give 
vent  to  complaints,  which  might  have  given  offence  to 

229 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

persons  whom  it  was  her  interest  to  conciliate.  She, 
therefore,  submitted  to  necessity,  and  heard  the  follow- 
ing words  whispered  in  her  ear  — 

*  Fear  nothing,  there  is  no  evil  intended  you ;  nor  shall 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  if  he  loves  you  as  you  deserve  at  his 
hand,  receive  any  harm  on  our  part.  We  call  on  him  but 
to  do  justice  to  ourselves  and  to  you ;  and  be  assured  you 
will  best  accomplish  your  own  happiness  by  aiding  our 
views,  which  are  equally  in  favour  of  your  wishes  and 
your  freedom.' 

The  Lady  Augusta  would  have  made  some  answer  to 
this,  but  her  breath,  betwixt  fear  and  the  speed  with 
which  she  was  transported,  refused  to  permit  her  to  use 
intelligible  accents.  Meantime,  she  began  to  be  sensible 
that  she  was  inclosed  within  some  building,  and  prob- 
ably a  ruinous  one ;  for  although  the  mode  of  her  trans- 
portation no  longer  permitted  her  to  ascertain  the  nature 
of  her  path  in  any  respect  distinctly,  yet  the  absence  of 
the  external  air  —  which  was,  however,  sometimes 
excluded  and  sometimes  admitted  in  furious  gusts  — 
intimated  that  she  was  conducted  through  buildings 
partly  entire,  and  in  other  places  admitting  the  wind 
through  wide  rents  and  gaps.  In  one  place  it  seemed  to 
the  lady  as  if  she  passed  through  a  considerable  body  of 
people,  all  of  whom  observed  silence,  although  there  was 
sometimes  heard  among  them  a  murmur,  to  which  every 
one  present  in  some  degree  contributed,  although  the 
general  sound  did  not  exceed  a  whisper.  Her  situation 
made  her  attend  to  every  circumstance,  and  she  did  not 
fail  to  observe  that  these  persons  made  way  for  him  who 
bore  her,  until  at  length  she  became  sensible  that  he 
descended  by  the  regular  steps  of  a  stair,  and  that  she 

230 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

was  now  alone  excepting  his  company.  Arrived,  as  it 
appeared  to  the  lady,  on  more  level  ground,  they  pro- 
ceeded on  their  singular  road  by  a  course  which  appeared 
neither  direct  nor  easy,  and  through  an  atmosphere 
which  was  close  to  a  smothering  degree,  and  felt  at  the 
same  time  damp  and  disagreeable,  as  if  from  the  vapours 
of  a  new-made  grave. 

Her  guide  again  spoke.  'Bear  up,  Lady  Augusta,  for 
a  little  longer,  and  continue  to  endure  that  atmosphere 
which  must  be  one  day  common  to  us  all.  By  the  neces- 
sity of  my  situation,  I  must  resign  my  present  office  to 
your  original  guide,  and  can  only  give  you  my  assurance 
that  neither  he  nor  any  one  else  shall  offer  you  the  least 
incivility  or  insult,  and  on  this  you  may  rely,  on  the 
faith  of  a  man  of  honour.' 

He  placed  her,  as  he  said  these  words,  upon  the  soft 
turf,  and,  to  her  infinite  refreshment,  made  her  sensible 
that  she  was  once  more  in  the  open  air,  and  free  from  the 
smothering  atmosphere  which  had  before  oppressed  her 
like  that  of  a  charnel-house.  At  the  same  time,  she 
breathed  in  a  whisper  an  anxious  wish  that  she  might 
be  permitted  to  disencumber  herself  from  the  folds  of 
the  mantle,  which  excluded  almost  the  power  of  breath- 
ing, though  intended  only  to  prevent  her  seeing  by  what 
road  she  travelled.  She  immediately  found  it  unfolded, 
agreeably  to  her  request,  and  hastened,  with  uncovered 
eyes,  to  take  note  of  the  scene  around  her. 

It  was  overshadowed  by  thick  oak-trees,  among  which 
stood  some  remnants  of  buildings,  or  what  might  have 
seemed  such,  being  perhaps  the  same  in  which  she  had 
been  lately  wandering.  A  clear  fountain  of  living  water 
bubbled  forth  from  under  the  twisted  roots  of  one  of 

231 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

those  trees,  and  offered  the  lady  the  opportunity  of  a 
draught  of  the  pure  element,  and  in  which  she  also 
bathed  her  face,  which  had  received  more  than  one 
scratch  in  the  course  of  her  journey,  in  spite  of  the  care, 
and  almost  the  tenderness,  with  which  she  had  latterly 
been  borne  along.  The  cool  water  speedily  stopt  the 
bleeding  of  those  trifling  injuries,  and  the  appHcation 
served  at  the  same  time  to  recall  the  scattered  senses 
of  the  damsel  herself.  Her  first  idea  was  whether  an 
attempt  to  escape,  if  such  should  appear  possible,  was 
not  advisable.  A  moment's  reflection,  however,  satisfied 
her  that  such  a  scheme  was  not  to  be  thought  of;  and 
such  second  thoughts  were  confirmed  by  the  approach 
of  the  gigantic  form  of  the  huntsman  Turnbull,  the 
rough  tones  of  whose  voice  were  heard  before  his  figure 
was  obvious  to  her  eye. 

'Were  you  impatient  for  my  return,  fair  lady?  Such 
as  I,'  he  continued,  in  an  ironical  tone  of  voice,  'who  are 
foremost  in  the  chase  of  wild  stags  and  silvan  cattle,  are 
not  in  use  to  lag  behind  when  fair  ladies  like  you  are  the 
objects  of  pursuit;  and  if  I  am  not  so  constant  in  my 
attendance  as  you  might  expect,  believe  me,  it  is  be- 
cause I  was  engaged  in  another  matter,  to  which  I  must 
sacrifice  for  a  little  even  the  duty  of  attending  on  you.' 

'I  offer  no  resistance,'  said  the  lady;  'forbear,  how- 
ever, in  discharging  thy  duty,  to  augment  my  uneasiness 
by  thy  conversation,  for  thy  master  hath  pledged  me  his 
word  that  he  will  not  suffer  me  to  be  alarmed  or  ill- 
treated.' 

'Nay,  fair  one,'  replied  the  huntsman,  'I  ever  thought 
it  was  fit  to  make  interest  by  soft  words  with  fair  ladies; 
but  if  you  like  it  not,  I  have  no  such  pleasure  in  hunting 

232 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

for  fine  holyday  terms  but  that  I  can  with  equal  ease 
hold  myself  silent.  Come,  then,  since  we  must  wait  upon 
this  lover  of  yours  ere  morning  closes,  and  learn  his 
last  resolution  touching  a  matter  which  is  become  so 
strangely  complicated,  I  will  hold  no  more  intercourse 
with  you  as  a  female,  but  talk  to  you  as  a  person  of 
sense,  although  an  Enghsh woman.' 

'You  will,'  replied  the  lady,  'best  fulfil  the  intentions 
of  those  by  whose  orders  you  act  by  holding  no  society 
with  me  whatever,  otherwise  than  is  necessary  in  the 
character  of  guide.' 

The  man  lowered  his  brows,  yet  seemed  to  assent  to 
what  the  Lady  of  Berkely  proposed,  and  remained  silent 
as  they  for  some  time  pursued  their  course,  each  pon- 
dering over  their  own  share  of  meditation,  which  prob- 
ably turned  upon  matters  essentially  different.  At 
length  the  loud  blast  of  a  bugle  was  heard  at  no  great 
distance  from  the  unsocial  fellow-travellers.  '  That  is  the 
person  we  seek,'  said  Turnbull:  'I  know  his  blast  from 
any  other  who  frequents  this  forest,  and  my  orders  are 
to  bring  you  to  speech  of  him.' 

The  blood  darted  rapidly  through  the  lady's  veins  at 
the  thought  of  being  thus  unceremoniously  presented  to 
the  knight  in  whose  favour  she  had  confessed  a  rash 
preference  more  agreeable  to  the  manners  of  those 
times,  when  exaggerated  sentiments  often  inspired 
actions  of  extravagant  generosity,  than  in  our  days, 
when  everything  is  accounted  absurd  which  does  not 
turn  upon  a  motive  connected  with  the  immediate  selfish 
interests  of  the  actor  himself.  When  Turnbull,  there- 
fore, winded  his  horn,  as  if  in  answer  to  the  blast  which 
they  had  heard,  the  lady  was  disposed  to  fly  at  the  first 

233 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

impulse  of  shame  and  of  fear.  Turnbull  perceived  her 
intention,  and  caught  hold  of  her  with  no  very  gentle 
grasp,  saying,  'Nay,  lady,  it  is  to  be  understood  that 
you  play  your  own  part  in  the  drama,  which,  unless  you 
continue  on  the  stage,  will  conclude  unsatisfactorily 
to  us  all,  in  a  combat  at  outrance  between  your  lover 
and  me,  when  it  will  appear  which  of  us  is  most  worthy 
of  your  favour.' 

*I  will  be  patient,'  said  the  lady,  bethinking  her  that 
even  this  strange  man's  presence,  and  the  compulsion 
which  he  appeared  to  use  towards  her,  was  a  sort  of 
excuse  to  her  female  scruples  for  coming  into  the  pres- 
ence of  her  lover,  at  least  at  her  first  appearance  before 
him,  in  a  disguise  which  her  feelings  confessed  was  not 
extremely  decorous,  or  reconcilable  to  the  dignity  of  her 
sex. 

The  moment  after  these  thoughts  had  passed  through 
her  mind,  the  tramp  of  a  horse  was  heard  approaching; 
and  Sir  John  de  Walton,  pressing  through  the  trees, 
became  aware  of  the  presence  of  his  lady,  captive,  as  it 
seemed,  in  the  grasp  of  a  Scottish  outlaw,  who  was  only 
known  to  him  by  his  former  audacity  at  the  hunting- 
match. 

His  surprise  and  joy  only  supplied  the  knight  with 
those  hasty  expressions  —  'Caitiff,  let  go  thy  hold!  or 
die  in  thy  profane  attempt  to  control  the  motions  of  one 
whom  the  very  sun  in  heaven  should  be  proud  to  obey.' 
At  the  same  time,  apprehensive  that  the  huntsman 
might  hurry  the  lady  from  his  sight  by  means  of  some 
entangled  path  —  such  as  upon  a  former  occasion  had 
served  him  for  escape  —  Sir  John  de  Walton  dropt  his 
cumbrous  lance,  of  which  the  trees  did  not  permit  him 

234 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

the  perfect  use,  and,  springing  from  his  horse,  ap- 
proached Turnbull  with  his  drawn  sword. 

The  Scottishman,  keeping  his  left  hand  still  upon  the 
lady's  mantle,  uplifted  with  his  right  his  battle-axe,  or 
Jedwood  staff,  for  the  purpose  of  parrying  and  returning 
the  blow  of  his  antagonist;  but  the  lady  spoke. 

'Sir  John  de  Walton,'  she  said,  'for  Heaven's  sake,  for- 
bear all  violence,  till  you  hear  upon  what  pacific  object 
I  am  brought  hither,  and  by  what  peaceful  means  these 
wars  may  be  put  an  end  to.  This  man,  though  an  enemy 
of  yours,  has  been  to  me  a  civil  and  respectful  guardian; 
and  I  entreat  you  to  forbear  him  while  he  speaks  the 
purpose  for  which  he  has  brought  me  hither.' 

*  To  speak  of  compulsion  and  the  Lady  de  Berkely  in 
the  same  breath  would  itself  be  cause  enough  for  instant 
death,'  said  the  governor  of  Douglas  Castle;  'but  you 
command,  lady,  and  I  spare  his  insignificant  life,  al- 
though I  have  causes  of  complaint  against  him  the  least 
of  which  were  good  warrant,  had  he  a  thousand  lives,  for 
the  forfeiture  of  them  all.' 

'John  de  Walton,'  replied  Turnbull,  'this  lady  well 
knows  that  no  fear  of  thee  operates  in  my  mind  to  render 
this  a  peaceful  meeting;  and  were  I  not  withheld  by 
other  circumstances  of  great  consideration  to  the 
Douglas,  as  well  as  thyself,  I  should  have  no  more 
fear  in  facing  the  utmost  thou  couldst  do  than  I  have 
now  in  levelling  that  sapling  to  the  earth  it  grows 
upon.' 

So  saying,  Michael  Turnbull  raised  his  battle-axe,  and 
struck  from  a  neighbouring  oak-tree  a  branch,  well-nigh 
as  thick  as  a  man's  arm,  which,  with  all  its  twigs  and 
leaves,  rushed  to  the  ground  between  De  Walton  and 

235 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

the  Scotchman,  giving  a  singular  instance  of  the  keen- 
ness of  his  weapon,  and  the  strength  and  dexterity  with 
which  he  used  it. 

'Let  there  be  truce,  then,  between  us,  good  fellow,' 
said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  '  since  it  is  the  lady's  pleasure 
that  such  should  be  the  case,  and  let  me  know  what  thou 
hast  to  say  to  me  respecting  her? ' 

'On  that  subject,'  said  Turnbull,  'my  words  are  few, 
but  mark  them,  sir  Englishman.  The  Lady  Augusta 
Berkely,  wandering  in  this  country,  has  become  a 
prisoner  of  the  noble  Lord  Douglas,  the  rightful  inheri- 
tor of  the  castle  and  lordship,  and  he  finds  himself 
obliged  to  attach  to  the  liberty  of  this  lady  the  following 
conditions,  being  in  all  respects  such  as  good  and  lawful 
warfare  entitles  a  knight  to  exact.  That  is  to  say,  in  all 
honour  and  safety  the  Lady  Augusta  shall  be  delivered 
to  Sir  John  de  Walton,  or  those  whom  he  shall  name  for 
the  purpose  of  receiving  her.  On  the  other  hand,  the 
Castle  of  Douglas  itself,  together  with  all  outposts  or  gar- 
risons thereunto  belonging,  shall  be  made  over  and  sur- 
rendered by  Sir  John  de  Walton,  in  the  same  situation, 
and  containing  the  same  provisions  and  artillery,  as  are 
now  within  their  walls ;  and  the  space  of  a  month  of  truce 
shall  be  permitted  to  Sir  James  Douglas  and  Sir  John  de 
Walton  further  to  regulate  the  terms  of  surrender  on 
both  parts,  having  first  plighted  their  knightly  word  and 
oath  that  in  the  exchange  of  the  honourable  lady  for  the 
foresaid  castle  lies  the  full  import  of  the  present  agree- 
ment, and  that  every  other  subject  of  dispute  shall,  at 
the  pleasure  of  the  noble  knights  foresaid,  be  honourably 
compounded  and  agreed  betwixt  them;  or,  at  their  plea- 
sure, settled  knightly  by  single  combat,  according  to 

236 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

usage,  and  in  a  fair  field,  before  any  honourable  person 
that  may  possess  power  enough  to  preside.' 

It  is  not  easy  to  conceive  the  astonishment  of  Sir  John 
de  Walton  at  hearing  the  contents  of  this  extraordinary 
cartel;  he  looked  towards  the  Lady  of  Berkely  with  that 
aspect  of  despair  with  which  a  criminal  may  be  sup- 
posed to  see  his  guardian  angel  prepare  for  departure. 
Through  her  mind  also  similar  ideas  flowed,  as  if  they 
contained  a  concession  of  what  she  had  considered  as  the 
summit  of  her  wishes,  but  under  conditions  disgraceful 
to  her  lover,  like  the  cherub's  fiery  sword  of  yore,  which 
was  a  barrier  between  our  first  parents  and  the  blessings 
of  Paradise. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  after  a  moment's  hesitation, 
broke  silence  in  these  words:  'Noble  lady,  you  may  be 
surprised  if  a  condition  be  imposed  upon  me,  having  for 
its  object  your  freedom,  and  if  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
already  standing  under  those  obligations  to  you  which 
he  is  proud  of  acknowledging,  should  yet  hesitate  on 
accepting,  with  the  utmost  eagerness,  what  must  ensure 
your  restoration  to  freedom  and  independence;  but  so  it 
is,  that  the  words  now  spoken  have  thrilled  in  mine  ear 
without  reaching  to  my  understanding,  and  I  must  pray 
the  Lady  of  Berkely  for  pardon  if  I  take  time  to  recon- 
sider them  for  a  short  space.' 

'And  I,'  replied  Turnbull,  'have  only  power  to  allow 
you  half  an  hour  for  the  consideration  of  an  offer  in 
accepting  which,  methinks,  you  should  jump  shoulder- 
height,  instead  of  asking  any  time  for  reflection.  What 
does  this  cartel  exact,  save  what  your  duty  as  a  knight 
implicitly  obliges  you  to?  You  have  engaged  yourself  to 
become  the  agent  of  the  tyrant  Edward,  in  holding 

237 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

Douglas  Castle,  as  his  commander,  to  the  prejudice  of 
the  Scottish  nation  and  of  the  knight  of  Douglas  Dale, 
who  never,  as  a  community  or  as  an  individual,  were 
guilty  of  the  least  injury  towards  you;  you  are  therefore 
prosecuting  a  false  path,  unworthy  of  a  good  knight. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  freedom  and  safety  of  your  lady 
is  now  proposed  to  be  pledged  to  you,  with  a  full  assur- 
ance of  her  liberty  and  honour,  on  consideration  of  your 
withdrawing  from  the  unjust  line  of  conduct  in  which 
you  have  suffered  yourself  to  be  imprudently  engaged. 
If  you  persevere  in  it,  you  place  your  own  honour  and 
the  lady's  happiness  in  the  hands  of  men  whom  you 
have  done  everything  in  your  power  to  render  desperate, 
and  whom,  thus  irritated,  it  is  most  probable  you  may 
find  such.' 

*  It  is  not  from  thee,  at  least,'  said  the  knight,  'that  I 
shall  learn  to  estimate  the  manner  in  which  Douglas  will 
explain  the  laws  of  war,  or  De  Walton  receive  them  at 
his  dictating.' 

*I  am  not,  then,'  said  Turnbull,  'received  as  a  friendly 
messenger?  Farewell,  and  think  of  this  lady  as  being 
in  any  hands  but  those  which  are  safe,  while  you  make 
up  at  leisure  your  mind  upon  the  message  I  have 
brought  you.   Come,  madam,  we  must  be  gone.' 

So  saying,  he  seized  upon  the  lady's  hand,  and  pulled 
her,  as  if  to  force  her  to  withdraw.  The  lady  had  stood 
motionless,  and  almost  senseless,  while  these  speeches 
were  exchanged  between  the  warriors ;  but  when  she  felt 
the  grasp  of  Michael  Turnbull  she  exclaimed,  like  one 
almost  beside  herself  with  fear  — '  Help  me,  De  Walton ! ' 

The  knight,  stung  to  instant  rage,  assaulted  the  for- 
ester with  the  utmost  fury,  and  dealt  him  with  his  long 

238 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

sword,  almost  at  unawares,  two  or  three  heavy  blows, 
by  which  he  was  so  wounded  that  he  sunk  backwards  in 
the  thicket,  and  De  Walton  was  about  to  despatch  him 
when  he  was  prevented  by  the  anxious  cry  of  the  lady  — 
*Alas!  De  Walton,  what  have  you  done?  This  man  was 
only  an  ambassador,  and  should  have  passed  free  from 
injury,  while  he  confined  himself  to  the  delivery  of  what 
he  was  charged  with;  and  if  thou  hast  slain  him,  who 
knows  how  frightful  may  prove  the  vengeance  exacted ! ' 

The  voice  of  the  lady  seemed  to  recover  the  hunts- 
man from  the  effects  of  the  blows  he  had  received:  he 
sprung  on  his  feet,  saying,  'Never  mind  me,  nor  think 
of  my  becoming  the  means  of  making  mischief.  The 
knight,  in  his  haste,  spoke  without  giving  me  warning 
and  defiance,  which  gave  him  an  advantage  which,  I 
think,  he  would  otherwise  have  scorned  to  have  taken 
in  such  a  case.  I  will  renew  the  combat  on  fairer  terms, 
or  call  another  champion,  as  the  knight  pleases.'  With 
these  words  he  disappeared. 

*  Fear  not,  empress  of  De  Walton's  thoughts,'  answered 
the  knight,  *  but  believe  that,  if  we  regain  together  the 
shelter  of  Douglas  Castle  and  the  safeguard  of  St. 
George's  cross,  thou  mayst  laugh  at  all.  And  if  you  can 
but  pardon,  what  I  shall  never  be  able  to  forgive  myself, 
the  mole-like  blindness  which  did  not  recognize  the  sun 
while  under  a  temporary  eclipse,  the  task  cannot  be 
named  too  hard  for  mortal  valour  to  achieve,  which  I 
shall  not  willingly  undertake,  to  wipe  out  the  memory  of 
my  grievous  fault.' 

'Mention  it  no  more,'  said  the  lady;  'it  is  not  at  such 
a  time  as  this,  when  our  lives  are  for  the  moment  at  stake, 
that  quarrels  upon  slighter  topics  are  to  be  recurred  to. 

23Q 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

I  can  tell  you,  if  you  do  not  yet  know,  that  the  Scots  are 
in  arms  in  this  vicinity,  and  that  even  the  earth  has 
yawned  to  conceal  them  from  the  sight  of  your  garrison.' 

'Let  it  yawn,  then,'  said  Sir  John  de  Walton,  'and 
suffer  every  fiend  in  the  infernal  abyss  to  escape  from 
his  prison-house  and  reinforce  our  enemies ;  still,  fairest, 
having  received  in  thee  a  pearl  of  matchless  price,  my 
spurs  shall  be  hacked  from  my  heels  by  the  basest  scul- 
lion if  I  turn  my  horse's  head  to  the  rear  before  the 
utmost  force  these  ruffians  can  assemble,  either  upon 
earth  or  from  underneath  it.  In  thy  name  I  defy  them 
all  to  instant  combat.' 

As  Sir  John  de  Walton  pronounced  these  last  words  in 
something  of  an  exalted  tone,  a  tall  cavalier,  arrayed  in 
black  armour  of  the  simplest  form,  stepped  forth  from 
that  part  of  the  thicket  where  Turnbull  had  disappeared. 
*I  am,'  he  said,  'James  of  Douglas,  and  your  challenge  is 
accepted.  I,  the  challenged,  name  the  arms  our  knightly 
weapons  as  we  now  wear  them,  and  our  place  of  combat 
this  field  or  dingle  called  the  Bloody  Sykes,  the  time 
being  instant,  and  the  combatants,  like  true  knights, 
foregoing  each  advantage  on  either  side.'  * 

*  So  be  it,  in  God's  name,'  said  the  English  knight,  who, 
though  surprised  at  being  called  upon  to  so  sudden  an 
encounter  with  so  formidable  a  warrior  as  young  Doug- 
las, was  too  proud  to  dream  of  avoiding  the  combat. 
Making  a  sign  to  the  lady  to  retire  behind  him,  that  he 
might  not  lose  the  advantage  which  he  had  gained  by 
setting  her  at  liberty  from  the  forester,  he  drew  his  sword, 
and  with  a  deliberate  and  prepared  attitude  of  offence 
moved  slowly  to  the  encounter.  It  was  a  dreadful  one, 

1  See  Note  8. 
240 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

for  the  courage  and  skill  both  of  the  native  Lord  of 
Douglas  Dale  and  of  De  Walton  were  among  the  most 
renowned  of  the  times,  and  perhaps  the  world  of  chiv- 
alry could  hardly  have  produced  two  knights  more 
famous.  Their  blows  fell  as  if  urged  by  some  mighty 
engine,  where  they  were  met  and  parried  with  equal 
strength  and  dexterity;  nor  seemed  it  likely,  in  the  course 
of  ten  minutes'  encounter,  that  an  advantage  would  be 
gained  by  either  combatant  over  the  other.  An  instant 
they  stopped  by  mutually  implied  assent,  as  it  seemed, 
for  the  purpose  of  taking  breath,  during  which  Douglas 
said,  *I  beg  that  this  noble  lady  may  understand  that 
her  own  freedom  is  no  way  concerned  in  the  present  con- 
test, which  entirely  regards  the  injustice  done  by  this 
Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  by  his  nation  of  England,  to 
the  memory  of  my  father,  and  to  my  own  natural  rights.' 

'You  are  generous,  sir  knight,'  replied  the  lady;  '  but 
in  what  circumstances  do  you  place  me,  if  you  deprive 
me  of  my  protector  by  death  or  captivity,  and  leave  me 
alone  in  a  foreign  land? ' 

'If  such  should  be  the  event  of  the  combat,'  replied 
Sir  James,  'the  Douglas  himself,  lady,  will  safely  restore 
thee  to  thy  native  land;  for  never  did  his  sword  do  an 
injury  for  which  he  was  not  willing  to  make  amends  with 
the  same  weapon ;  and  if  Sir  John  de  Walton  will  make 
the  slightest  admission  that  he  renounces  maintaining 
the  present  strife,  were  it  only  by  yielding  up  a  feather 
from  the  plume  of  his  helmet,  Douglas  will  renounce 
every  purpose  on  his  part  which  can  touch  the  lady's 
honour  or  safety,  and  the  combat  may  be  suspended 
until  the  national  quarrel  again  brings  us  together.' 

Sir  John  de  Walton  pondered  a  moment,  and  the  lady, 
45  241 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

although  she  did  not  speak,  looked  at  him  with  eyes 
which  plainly  expressed  how  much  she  wished  that  he 
would  choose  the  less  hazardous  alternative.  But  the 
knight's  own  scruples  prevented  his  bringing  the  case 
to  so  favourable  an  arbitrament. 

'Never  shall  it  be  said  of  Sir  John  de  Walton/  he 
replied,  'that  he  compromised,  in  the  slightest  degree, 
his  own  honour  or  that  of  his  country.  This  battle  may 
end  in  my  defeat,  or  rather  death,  and  in  that  case  my 
earthly  prospects  are  closed,  and  I  resign  to  Douglas, 
with  my  last  breath,  the  charge  of  the  Lady  Augusta, 
trusting  that  he  will  defend  her  with  his  life,  and  find  the 
means  of  replacing  her  with  safety  in  the  halls  of  her 
fathers.  But  while  I  survive  she  may  have  a  better,  but 
will  not  need  another,  protector  than  he  who  is  honoured 
by  being  her  own  choice;  nor  will  I  yield  up,  were  it  a 
plume  from  my  helmet,  implying  that  I  have  maintained 
an  unjust  quarrel,  either  in  the  cause  of  England  or  of 
the  fairest  of  her  daughters.  Thus  far  alone  I  will  con- 
cede to  Douglas  —  an  instant  truce,  provided  the  lady 
shall  not  be  interrupted  in  her  retreat  to  England,  and 
the  combat  be  fought  out  upon  another  day.  The  castle 
and  territory  of  Douglas  is  the  property  of  Edward  of 
England,  the  governor  in  his  name  is  the  rightful  gov- 
ernor, and  on  this  point  I  will  fight  while  my  eyelids  are 
unclosed.' 

'Time  flies,'  said  Douglas,  'without  waiting  for  our 
resolves;  nor  is  there  any  part  of  his  motions  of  such 
value  as  that  which  is  passing  with  every  breath  of  vital 
air  which  we  presently  draw.  Why  should  we  adjourn 
till  to-morrow  that  which  can  be  as  well  finished  to-day? 
Will  our  swords  be  sharper  or  our  arms  stronger  to  wield 

242 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

them  than  they  are  at  this  moment?  Douglas  will  do  all 
which  knight  can  do  to  succour  a  lady  in  distress;  but  he 
will  not  grant  to  her  knight  the  slightest  mark  of  defer- 
ence, which  Sir  John  de  Walton  vainly  supposes  himself 
able  to  extort  by  force  of  arms.' 

With  these  words,  the  knights  engaged  once  more  in 
mortal  combat,  and  the  lady  felt  uncertain  whether  she 
should  attempt  her  escape  through  the  devious  paths  of 
the  wood  or  abide  the  issue  of  this  obstinate  fight.  It 
was  rather  her  desire  to  see  the  fate  of  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton than  any  other  consideration  which  induced  her  to 
remain,  as  if  fascinated,  upon  the  spot,  where  one  of  the 
fiercest  quarrels  ever  fought  was  disputed  by  two  of 
the  bravest  champions  that  ever  drew  sword.  At  last 
the  lady  attempted  to  put  a  stop  to  the  combat  by  ap- 
pealing to  the  bells  which  began  to  ring  for  the  service 
of  the  day,  which  was  Palm  Sunday. 

'  For  Heaven's  sake,'  she  said, '  for  your  own  sakes,  and 
for  that  of  lady's  love,  and  the  duties  of  chivalry,  hold 
your  hands  only  for  an  hour,  and  take  chance  that,  where 
strength  is  so  equal,  means  will  be  found  of  converting 
the  truce  into  a  solid  peace.  Think,  this  is  Palm  Sunday, 
and  will  you  defile  with  blood  such  a  peculiar  festival  of 
Christianity?  Intermit  your  feud  at  least  so  far  as  to 
pass  to  the  nearest  church,  bearing  with  you  branches, 
not  in  the  ostentatious  mode  of  earthly  conquerors,  but 
as  rendering  due  homage  to  the  rules  of  the  blessed 
church  and  the  institutions  of  our  holy  religion.' 

'  I  was  on  my  road,  fair  lady,  for  that  purpose,  to  the 
holy  church  of  Douglas,'  said  the  Englishman,  'when  I 
was  so  fortunate  as  to  meet  you  at  this  place;  nor  do  I 
object  to  proceed  thither  even  now,  holding  truce  for  an 

243 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

hour,  and  I  fear  not  to  find  there  friends  to  whom  I  can 
commit  you  with  assurance  of  safety,  in  case  I  am  unfor- 
tunate in  the  combat  which  is  now  broken  off,  to  be 
resumed  after  the  service  of  the  day.' 

*I  also  assent,'  said  the  Douglas,  *to  a  truce  for  such 
short  space;  nor  do  I  fear  that  there  may  be  good  Chris- 
tians enough  at  the  church  who  will  not  see  their  master 
overpowered  by  odds.  Let  us  go  thither,  and  each  take 
the  chance  of  what  Heaven  shall  please  to  send  us.' 

From  these  words.  Sir  John  de  Walton  little  doubted 
that  Douglas  had  assured  himself  of  a  party  among 
those  who  should  there  assemble;  but  he  doubted  not  of 
so  many  of  the  garrison  being  present  as  would  bridle 
every  attempt  at  rising;  and  the  risk,  he  thought,  was 
worth  incurring,  since  he  should  thereby  secure  an  oppor- 
tunity to  place  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely  in  safety,  at 
least  so  far  as  to  make  her  liberty  depend  on  the  event 
of  a  general  conflict,  instead  of  the  precarious  issue  of  a 
combat  between  himself  and  Douglas. 

Both  these  distinguished  knights  were  inwardly  of 
opinion  that  the  proposal  of  the  lady,  though  it  relieved 
them  from  their  present  conflict,  by  no  means  bound 
them  to  abstain  from  the  consequences  which  an  acces- 
sion of  force  might  add  to  their  general  strength,  and  each 
relied  upon  his  superiority,  in  some  degree  provided  for 
by  their  previous  proceedings.  Sir  John  de  Walton 
made  almost  certain  of  meeting  with  several  of  his  bands 
of  soldiers,  who  were  scouring  the  country  and  travers- 
ing the  woods  by  his  direction ;  and  Douglas,  it  may  be 
supposed,  had  not  ventured  himself  in  person  where  a 
price  was  set  upon  his  head  without  being  attended  by  a 
sufl&cient  number  of  approved  adherents,  placed  in  more 

244 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

or  less  connexion  with  each  other,  and  stationed  for  mu- 
tual support.  Each,  therefore,  entertained  well-grounded 
hopes  that,  by  adopting  the  truce  proposed,  he  would 
ensure  himself  an  advantage  over  his  antagonist, 
although  neither  exactly  knew  in  what  manner  nor  to 
what  extent  this  success  was  to  be  obtained. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

His  talk  was  of  another  world  —  his  bodements 
Strange,  doubtful,  and  mysterious;  those  who  heard  him 
Listen'd  as  to  a  man  in  feverish  dreams. 
Who  speaks  of  other  objects  than  the  present, 
And  mutters  like  to  him  who  sees  a  vision. 

Old  Play. 

On  the  same  Palm  Sunday  when  De  Walton  and  Doug- 
las measured  together  their  mighty  swords,  the  minstrel 
Bertram  was  busied  with  the  ancient  book  of  prophecies, 
which  we  have  already  mentioned  as  the  supposed  com- 
position of  Thomas  the  Rhjuier,  but  not  without  many 
anxieties  as  to  the  fate  of  his  lady,  and  the  events  which 
were  passing  around  him.  As  a  minstrel,  he  was  desir- 
ous of  an  auditor  to  enter  into  the  discoveries  which  he 
should  make  in  that  mystic  volume,  as  well  as  to  assist 
in  passing  away  the  time ;  Sir  John  de  Walton  had  fur- 
nished him,  in  Gilbert  Greenleaf  the  archer,  with  one 
who  was  well  contented  to  play  the  listener  'from  morn 
to  dewy  eve,'  provided  a  flask  of  Gascon  wine,  or  a  stoup 
of  good  Enghsh  ale,  remained  on  tlie  board.  It  may  be 
remembered  that  De  Walton,  when  he  dismissed  the 
minstrel  from  the  dungeon,  was  sensible  that  he  owed 
him  some  compensation  for  the  causeless  suspicion 
which  had  dictated  his  imprisonment,  more  particularly 
as  he  was  a  valued  servant,  and  had  shown  himself  the 
faithful  confidant  of  the  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely,  and 
the  person  who  was  moreover  likely  to  know  all  the 
motives  and  circumstances  of  her  Scottish  journey.  To 
secure  his  good  wishes  was,  therefore,  politic;  and  De 

246 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

Walton  had  intimated  to  his  faithful  archer  that  he  was 
to  lay  aside  all  suspicion  of  Bertram,  but,  at  the  same 
time,  keep  him  in  sight,  and,  if  possible,  in  good  humour 
with  the  governor  of  the  castle  and  his  adherents. 
Greenleaf,  accordingly,  had  no  doubt  in  his  own  mind 
that  the  only  way  to  please  a  minstrel  was  to  hsten  with 
patience  and  commendation  to  the  lays  which  he  liked 
best  to  sing,  or  the  tales  which  he  most  loved  to  tell ;  and 
in  order  to  ensure  the  execution  of  his  master's  com- 
mands, he  judged  it  necessary  to  demand  of  the  butler 
such  store  of  good  liquor  as  could  not  fail  to  enhance 
the  pleasure  of  his  society. 

Having  thus  fortified  himself  with  the  means  of  bear- 
ing a  long  interview  with  the  minstrel,  Gilbert  Green- 
leaf  proposed  to  confer  upon  him  the  bounty  of  an  early 
breakfast,  which,  if  it  pleased  him,  they  might  wash 
down  with  a  cup  of  sack,  and,  having  his  master's  com- 
mands to  show  the  minstrel  anything  about  the  castle 
which  he  might  wish  to  see,  refresh  their  overwearied 
spirits  by  attending  a  part  of  the  garrison  of  Douglas 
to  the  service  of  the  day,  which,  as  we  have  already  seen, 
was  of  peculiar  sanctity.  Against  such  a  proposal  the 
minstrel,  a  good  Christian  by  profession,  and,  by  his  con- 
nexion with  the  joyous  science,  a  good  fellow,  having  no 
objections  to  offer,  the  two  comrades,  who  had  formerly 
little  good-will  towards  each  other,  commenced  their 
morning's  repast  on  that  fated  Palm  Sunday  with  all 
manner  of  cordiality  and  good  fellowship. 

*Do  not  believe,  worthy  minstrel,'  said  the  archer, 
'that  my  master  in  any  respect  disparages  your  worth 
or  rank  in  referring  you  for  company  or  conversation  to 
so  poor  a  man  as  myself.  It  is  true,  I  am  no  officer  of  this 

247 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

garrison;  yet  for  an  old  archer,  who  for  these  thirty  years 
has  lived  by  bow  and  bowstring,  I  do  not  —  our  Lady 
make  me  thankful !  —  hold  less  share  in  the  grace  of  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  other 
approved  good  soldiers,  than  many  of  those  giddy  young 
men  on  whom  commissions  are  conferred,  and  to  whom 
confidences  are  entrusted,  not  on  account  of  what  they 
have  done,  but  what  their  ancestors  have  done  before 
them.  I  pray  you  to  notice  among  them  one  youth 
placed  at  our  head  in  De  Walton's  absence,  and  who 
bears  the  honoured  name  of  Aymer  de  Valence,  being  the 
same  with  that  of  the  Earl  of  Pembroke,  of  whom  I 
have  spoken ;  this  knight  has  also  a  brisk  young  page, 
whom  men  call  Fabian  Harbothel.' 

*Is  it  to  these  gentlemen  that  your  censure  appHes?' 
answered  the  minstrel.  'I  should  have  judged  differ- 
ently, having  never,  in  the  course  of  my  experience,  seen 
a  young  man  more  courteous  and  amiable  than  the  young 
knight  you  named.' 

*I  nothing  dispute  that  it  may  be  so,'  said  the 
archer,  hastening  to  amend  the  false  step  which  he  had 
made;  'but  in  order  that  it  should  be  so,  it  will  be  neces- 
sary that  he  conform  to  the  usages  of  his  imcle,  taking 
the  advice  of  experienced  old  soldiers  in  the  emergencies 
which  may  present  themselves;  and  not  believing  that 
the  knowledge  which  it  takes  many  years  of  observation 
to  acquire  can  be  at  once  conferred  by  the  slap  of  the  flat 
of  a  sword,  and  the  magic  words,  "Rise  up.  Sir  Arthur," 
or  however  the  case  may  be.' 

'Doubt  not,  sir  archer,'  replied  Bertram,  'that  I  am 
fully  aware  of  the  advantage  to  be  derived  from  con- 
versing with  men  of  experience  like  you:  it  benefiteth 

248 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

men  of  every  persuasion,  and  I  myself  am  oft  reduced  to 
lament  my  want  of  sufficient  knowledge  of  armorial 
bearings,  signs,  and  cognizances,  and  would  right  fain 
have  thy  assistance,  where  I  am  a  stranger  alike  to  the 
names  of  places,  of  persons,  and  description  of  banners 
and  emblems  by  which  great  famihes  are  distinguished 
from  each  other,  so  absolutely  necessary  to  the  accom- 
plishment of  my  present  task.' 

'Pennons  and  banners,'  answered  the  archer,  *I  have 
seen  right  many,  and  can  assign,  as  is  a  soldier's  wont, 
the  name  of  the  leader  to  the  emblem  under  which  he 
musters  his  followers;  nevertheless,  worthy  minstrel,  I 
cannot  presume  to  understand  what  you  call  prophecies, 
with  or  under  warranted  authority  of  old  painted  books, 
expositions  of  dreams,  oracles,  revelations,  invocations 
of  damned  spirits,  judicials,  astrologicals,  and  other 
gross  and  palpable  offences,  whereby  men,  pretending 
to  have  the  assistance  of  the  Devil,  do  impose  upon  the 
common  people,  in  spite  of  the  warnings  of  the  privy 
council ;  not,  however,  that  I  suspect  you,  worthy  min- 
strel, of  busying  yourself  with  these  attempts  to  explain 
futurity,  which  are  dangerous  attempts,  and  may  be  truly 
said  to  be  penal,  and  part  of  treason.' 

'There  is  something  in  what  you  say,'  replied  the 
minstrel;  'yet  it  applieth  not  to  books  and  manuscripts 
such  as  I  have  been  consulting;  part  of  which  things, 
therein  written,  having  already  come  to  pass  authorize 
us  surely  to  expect  the  completion  of  the  rest;  nor  would 
I  have  much  difficulty  in  showing  you  from  this  volume 
that  enough  has  been  already  proved  true  to  entitle  us 
to  look  with  certainty  to  the  accomplishment  of  that 
which  remains.' 

249 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

'I  should  be  glad  to  hear  that/  answered  the  archer, 
who  entertained  little  more  than  a  soldier's  belief  re- 
specting prophecies  and  auguries,  but  yet  cared  not 
bluntly  to  contradict  the  minstrel  upon  such  subjects, 
as  he  had  been  instructed  by  Sir  John  de  Walton  to 
comply  with  his  humour. 

Accordingly  the  minstrel  began  to  recite  verses  which, 
in  our  time,  the  ablest  interpreter  could  not  make  sense 
out  of. 

'When  the  cock  crows,  keep  well  his  comb, 

For  the  fox  and  the  fulmart  they  are  false  both. 

When  the  raven  and  the  rook  have  rounded  together, 

And  the  kid  in  his  cliff  shall  accord  to  the  same, 

Then  shall  they  be  bold,  and  soon  to  battle  thereafter. 

Then  the  birds  of  the  raven  rugs  and  reives. 

And  the  leal  men  of  Lothian  are  louping  on  their  horse; 

Then  shall  the  poor  people  be  spoiled  full  near, 

And  the  abbeys  be  burnt  truly  that  stand  upon  Tweed; 

They  shall  burn  and  slay,  and  great  reif  make; 

There  shall  no  poor  man  who  say  whose  man  he  is: 

Then  shall  the  land  be  lawless,  for  love  there  is  none. 

Then  falset  shall  have  foot  fully  five  years; 

Then  truth  surely  shall  be  tint,  and  none  shall  lippen  to  other; 

The  one  cousing  shall  not  trust  the  other. 

Not  the  son  the  father,  nor  the  father  the  son; 

For  to  have  his  goods  he  would  have  him  hanged,'  etc. 

The  archer  listened  to  these  mystic  prognostications, 
which  were  not  the  less  wearisome  that  they  were,  in  a 
considerable  degree,  unintelligible;  at  the  same  time  sub- 
duing his  Hotspurlike  disposition  to  tire  of  the  recitation, 
yet  at  brief  intervals  comforting  himself  with  an  appli- 
cation to  the  wine  flagon,  and  enduring  as  he  might 
what  he  neither  understood  nor  took  interest  in.  Mean- 
while the  minstrel  proceeded  with  his  explanation  of  the 

250 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

dubious  and  imperfect  vaticinations  of  which  we  have 
given  a  sufficient  specimen. 

'Could  you  wish,'  said  he  to  Greenleaf,  'a  more  exact 
description  of  the  miseries  which  have  passed  over  Scot- 
land in  these  latter  days?  Have  not  these  the  raven  and 
rook,  the  fox  and  the  fulmart,  explained ;  either  because 
the  nature  of  the  birds  or  beasts  bear  an  individual 
resemblance  to  those  of  the  knights  who  display  them  on 
their  banners,  or  otherwise  are  bodied  forth  by  actual 
blazonry  on  their  shields,  and  come  openly  into  the  field 
to  ravage  and  destroy?  Is  not  the  total  disunion  of  the 
land  plainly  indicated  by  these  words,  that  connexions 
of  blood  shall  be  broken  asunder,  that  kinsmen  shall  not 
trust  each  other,  and  that  the  father  and  son,  instead  of 
putting  faith  in  their  natural  connexion,  shall  seek  each 
other's  life,  in  order  to  enjoy  his  inheritance?  The  leal 
men  of  Lothian  are  distinctly  mentioned  as  taking  arms, 
and  there  is  plainly  allusion  to  the  other  events  of  these 
late  Scottish  troubles.  The  death  of  this  last  William 
is  obscurely  intimated  under  the  type  of  a  hound,  which 
was  that  good  lord's  occasional  cognizance. 

The  hound  that  was  harmed  then  muzzled  shall  be, 
Who  loved  him  worst  shall  weep  for  his  wreck; 
Yet  shall  a  whelp  rise  of  the  same  race, 
That  rudely  shall  roar,  and  rule  the  whole  north, 
And  quit  the  whole  quarrel  of  old  deeds  done, 
Though  he  from  his  hold  be  kept  back  a  while. 
True  Thomas  told  me  this  in  a  troublesome  time, 
In  a  harvest  morning  at  Eldoun  Hills. 

This  hath  a  meaning,  sir  archer,'  continued  the  minstrel, 
*and  which  flies  as  directly  to  its  mark  as  one  of  your 
own  arrows,  although  there  may  be  some  want  of  wis- 
dom in  making  the  direct  explication.    Being,  how- 

251 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ever,  upon  assurance  with  you,  I  do  not  hesitate  to  tell 
you  that  in  my  opinion  this  lion's  whelp  that  waits  its 
time  means  this  same  celebrated  Scottish  prince,  Robert 
the  Bruce,  who,  though  repeatedly  defeated,  has  still, 
while  hunted  with  bloodhounds  and  surrounded  by 
enemies  of  every  sort,  maintained  his  pretensions  to 
the  crown  of  Scotland  in  despite  of  King  Edward,  now 
reigning.' 

'Minstrel,'  answered  the  soldier,  'you  are  my  guest, 
and  we  have  sat  down  together  as  friends  to  this  simple 
meal  in  good  comradeship.  I  must  tell  thee,  however, 
though  I  am  loth  to  disturb  our  harmony,  that  thou  art 
the  first  who  hast  adventured  to  speak  a  word  before 
Gilbert  Greenleaf  in  favour  of  that  outlawed  traitor, 
Robert  Bruce,  who  has  by  his  seditions  so  long  disturbed 
the  peace  of  this  realm.  Take  my  advice,  and  be  silent 
on  this  topic;  for,  believe  me,  the  sword  of  a  true  English 
archer  will  spring  from  its  scabbard  without  consent  of 
its  master  should  it  hear  aught  said  to  the  disparage- 
ment of  bonny  St.  George  and  his  ruddy  cross;  nor  shall 
the  authority  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  or  any  other  pro- 
phet in  Scotland,  England,  or  Wales,  be  considered  as 
an  apology  for  such  unbecoming  predictions.' 

*  I  were  loth  to  give  offence  at  any  time,'  said  the  min- 
strel, 'much  more  to  provoke  you  to  anger,  when  I  am 
in  the  very  act  of  experiencing  your  hospitality.  I  trust, 
however,  you  will  remember  that  I  do  not  come  your 
uninvited  guest,  and  that,  if  I  speak  to  you  of  future 
events,  I  do  so  without  having  the  least  intention  to  add 
my  endeavour  to  bring  them  to  pass ;  for,  God  knows,  it 
is  many  years  since  my  sincere  prayer  has  been  for  peace 
and  happiness  to  all  men,  and  particularly  honour  and 

252 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

happiness  to  the  land  of  bowmen,  in  which  I  was  bom, 
and  which  I  am  bound  to  remember  in  my  prayers 
beyond  all  other  nations  in  the  world.' 

'  It  is  well  that  you  do  so,' said  the  archer;  'for  so  you 
shall  best  maintain  your  bounden  duty  to  the  fair  land 
of  your  birth,  which  is  the  richest  that  the  sun  shines 
upon.  Something,  however,  I  would  know,  if  it  suits 
with  your  pleasure  to  tell  me,  and  that  is,  whether  you 
find  anything  in  these  rude  rhymes  appearing  to  affect  the 
safety  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  where  we  now  are?  for, 
mark  me,  sir  minstrel,  I  have  observed  that  these  moul- 
dering parchments,  when  or  by  whomsoever  composed, 
have  so  far  a  certain  coincidence  with  the  truth,  that 
when  such  predictions  which  they  contain  are  spread 
abroad  in  the  country,  and  create  rumours  of  plots,  con- 
spiracies, and  bloody  wars,  they  are  very  apt  to  cause 
the  very  mischances  which  they  would  be  thought  only 
to  predict.' 

*It  were  not  very  cautious  in  me,'  said  the  minstrel, 
*  to  choose  a  prophecy  for  my  theme  which  had  reference 
to  any  attack  on  this  garrison;  for  in  such  case  I  should, 
according  to  your  ideas,  lay  myself  under  suspicion  of 
endeavouring  to  forward  what  no  person  could  more 
heartily  regret  than  myself.' 

'Take  my  word  for  it,  good  friend,'  said  the  archer, 
*that  it  shall  not  be  thus  with  thee;  for  I  neither  will 
myself  conceive  ill  of  thee  nor  report  thee  to  Sir  John  de 
Walton  as  meditating  harm  against  him  or  his  garrison; 
nor,  to  speak  truth,  would  Sir  John  de  Walton  be  willing 
to  believe  any  one  who  did.  He  thinks  highly,  and  no 
doubt  deservedly,  of  thy  good  faith  towards  thy  lady, 
and  would  conceive  it  unjust  to  suspect  the  fidelity  of 

253 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

one  who  has  given  evidence  of  his  willingness  to  meet 
death  rather  than  betray  the  least  secret  of  his  mistress,' 

'In  preserving  her  secret,'  said  Bertram,  *I  only  dis- 
charged the  duty  of  a  faithful  servant,  leaving  it  to  her  to 
judge  how  long  such  a  secret  ought  to  be  preserved;  for  a 
faithful  servant  ought  to  think  as  little  of  the  issue  to- 
wards himself  of  the  commission  which  he  bears  as  the 
band  of  flock-silk  concerns  itself  with  the  secret  of  the 
letter  which  it  secures.  And  touching  your  question,  I 
have  no  objections,  although  merely  to  satisfy  your  cur- 
iosity, to  unfold  to  you  that  these  old  prophecies  do  con- 
tain some  intimations  of  wars  befalHng  in  Douglas  Dale 
between  an  haggard,  or  wild  hawk,  which  I  take  to  be 
the  cognizance  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  and  the  three  stars, 
or  martlets,  which  is  the  cognizance  of  the  Douglas; 
and  more  particulars  I  could  tell  of  these  onslaughts,  did 
I  know  whereabouts  is  a  place  in  these  woods  termed 
Bloody  Sykes,  the  scene  also,  as  I  comprehend,  of 
slaughter  and  death  between  the  followers  of  the  three 
stars  and  those  who  hold  the  part  of  the  Saxon,  or  King 
of  England.' 

'Such  a  place,'  replied  Gilbert  Greenleaf,  'I  have 
heard  often  mentioned  by  that  name  among  the  natives 
of  these  parts;  nevertheless,  it  is  in  vain  to  seek  to  dis- 
cover the  precise  spot,  as  these  wily  Scots  conceal  from 
us  with  care  everything  respecting  the  geography  of  their 
country,  as  it  is  called  by  learned  men ;  but  we  may  here 
mention  the  Bloody  Sykes,  Bottomless  Myre,  and  other 
places  as  portentous  names,  to  which  their  traditions 
attach  some  signification  of  war  and  slaughter.  If  it 
suits  your  wish,  however,  we  can,  on  our  way  to  the 
church,  try  to  find  this  place  called  Bloody  Sykes,  which 

254 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

I  doubt  not  we  shall  trace  out  long  before  the  traitors 
who  meditate  an  attack  upon  us  will  find  a  power  suffi- 
cient for  the  attempt.' 

Accordingly,  the  minstrel  and  archer,  the  latter  of 
whom  was  by  this  time  reasonably  well  refreshed  with 
wine,  marched  out  of  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  without  wait- 
ing for  others  of  the  garrison,  resolving  to  seek  the  dingle 
bearing  the  ominous  name  of  Bloody  Sykes,  concerning 
which  the  archer  only  knew  that  by  mere  accident  he 
had  heard  of  a  place  bearing  such  a  name,  at  the  hunting- 
match  made  under  the  auspices  of  Sir  John  de  Walton, 
and  knew  that  it  lay  in  the  woods  somewhere  near  the 
town  of  Douglas,  and  in  the  vicinage  of  the  castle. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

Hotspur.  I  cannot  choose.   Sometimes  he  angers  me 
With  telling  me  of  the  moidwarp  and  the  ant. 
Of  the  dreamer  Merlin  and  his  prophecies, 
And  of  a  dragon  and  a  finless  fish, 
A  clip-wing'd  griffin  and  a  moulten  raven, 
A  couching  lion  and  a  ramping  cat, 
And  such  a  deal  of  skimble-skamble  stuff 
As  puts  me  from  my  faith. 

/  King  Henry  IV. 

The  conversation  between  the  minstrel  and  the  ancient 
archer  naturally  pursued  a  train  somewhat  resembling 
that  of  Hotspur  and  Glendower,  in  which  Gilbert  Green- 
leaf  by  degrees  took  a  larger  share  than  was  apparently 
consistent  with  his  habits  and  education ;  but  the  truth 
was  that,  as  he  exerted  himself  to  recall  the  recognizances 
of  military  chieftains,  their  war-cries,  emblems,  and 
other  types  by  which  they  distinguished  themselves  in 
battle,  and  might  undoubtedly  be  indicated  in  prophetic 
rhymes,  he  began  to  experience  the  pleasure  which  most 
men  entertain  when  they  find  themselves  unexpectedly 
possessed  of  a  faculty  which  the  moment  calls  upon  them 
to  employ,  and  renders  them  important  in  the  possession 
of.  The  minstrel's  sound  good  sense  was  certainly  some- 
what surprised  at  the  inconsistencies  sometimes  dis- 
played by  his  companion,  as  he  was  carried  off  by  the 
willingness  to  make  show  of  his  newly-discovered  fac- 
ulty on  the  one  hand,  and,  on  the  other,  to  call  to  mind 
the  prejudices  which  he  had  nourished  during  his  whole 
life  against  minstrels,  who,  with  the  whole  train  of  legends 
and  fables,  were  the  more  likely  to  be  false,  as  being  gen- 
erally derived  from  the  'North  Countrie.' 

256 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

As  they  strolled  from  one  glade  of  the  forest  to  another, 
the  minstrel  began  to  be  surprised  at  the  number  of  Scot- 
tish votaries  whom  they  met,  and  who  seemed  to  be  has- 
tening to  the  church,  and,  as  it  appeared  by  the  boughs 
which  they  carried,  to  assist  in  the  ceremony  of  the  day. 
To  each  of  these  the  archer  put  a  question  respecting  the 
existence  of  a  place  called  Bloody  Sykes,  and  where  it 
was  to  be  found;  but  all  seemed  either  to  be  ignorant  on 
the  subject  or  desirous  of  evading  it,  for  which  they  found 
some  pretext  in  the  jolly  archer's  manner  of  interroga- 
tion, which  savoured  a  good  deal  of  the  genial  breakfast. 
The  general  answer  was,  that  they  knew  no  such  place, 
or  had  other  matters  to  attend  to  upon  the  morn  of  a 
holy-tide  than  answering  frivolous  questions.  At  last, 
when,  in  one  or  two  instances,  the  answer  of  the  Scottish 
almost  approached  to  sullenness,  the  minstrel  remarked 
it,  observing,  that  there  was  ever  some  mischief  on  foot 
when  the  people  of  this  country  could  not  find  a  civil 
answer  to  their  betters,  which  is  usually  so  ready  among 
them,  and  that  they  appeared  to  be  making  a  strong 
muster  for  the  service  of  Palm  Sunday. 

*You  will  doubtless,  sir  archer,'  continued  the  min- 
strel, 'make  your  report  to  your  knight  accordingly;  for 
I  promise  you  that,  if  you  do  not,  I  myself,  whose  lady's 
freedom  is  also  concerned,  will  feel  it  my  duty  to  place 
before  Sir  John  de  Walton  the  circumstances  which  make 
me  entertain  suspicion  of  this  extraordinary  confluence 
of  Scottish  men,  and  the  surliness  which  has  replaced 
their  wonted  courtesy  of  manners.' 

'Tush,  sir  minstrel,'  replied  the  archer,  displeased  at 
Bertram's  interference,  'believe  me,  that  armies  have 
ere  now  depended  on  my  report  to  the  general,  which 

■    45  257 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

has  always  been  perspicuous  and  clear,  according  to  the 
duties  of  war.  Your  walk,  my  worthy  friend,  has  been 
in  a  separate  department,  such  as  affairs  of  peace,  old 
songs,  prophecies,  and  the  like,  in  which  it  is  far  from  my 
thoughts  to  contend  with  you;  but  credit  me,  it  will  be 
most  for  the  reputation  of  both  that  we  do  not  attempt 
to  interfere  with  what  concerns  each  other.' 

'It  is  far  from  my  wish  to  do  so,'  replied  the  minstrel; 
*  but  I  would  wish  that  a  speedy  return  should  be  made 
to  the  castle,  in  order  to  ask  Sir  John  de  Walton's  opin- 
ion of  that  which  we  have  but  just  seen.' 

*  To  this,'  replied  Greenleaf , '  there  can  be  no  objection ; 
but,  would  you  seek  the  governor  at  the  hour  which  now 
is,  you  will  find  him  most  readily  by  going  to  the  church 
of  Douglas,  to  which  he  regularly  wends  on  occasions 
such  as  the  present,  with  the  principal  part  of  his  offi- 
cers, to  ensure  by  his  presence  that  no  tumult  arise  —  of 
which  there  is  no  little  dread  —  between  the  EngUsh  and 
the  Scottish.  Let  us  therefore  hold  to  our  original  inten- 
tion of  attending  the  service  of  the  day,  and  we  shall  rid 
ourselves  of  these  entangled  woods,  and  gain  the  short- 
est road  to  the  church  of  Douglas.' 

'Let  us  go  then  with  aU  despatch,'  said  the  minstrel; 
'and  with  the  greater  haste,  that  it  appears  to  me  that 
something  has  passed  on  this  very  spot  this  morning 
which  argues  that  the  Christian  peace  due  to  the  day  has 
not  been  inviolably  observed.  What  mean  these  drops 
of  blood? '  alluding  to  those  which  had  flowed  from  the 
wounds  of  Turnbull.  '  Wherefore  is  the  earth  impressed 
with  these  deep  dints,  the  footsteps  of  armed  men  ad- 
vancing and  retreating,  doubtless,  according  to  the 
chances  of  a  fierce  and  heady  conflict?' 

258 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'By  Our  Lady,'  returned  Greenleaf,  *I  must  own  that 
thou  seest  clear.  What  were  my  eyes  made  of  when  they 
permitted  thee  to  be  the  first  discoverer  of  these  signs 
of  conflict?  Here  are  feathers  of  a  blue  plume,  which  I 
ought  to  remember,  seeing  my  knight  assumed  it,  or  at 
least  permitted  me  to  place  it  in  his  helmet,  this  morning, 
in  sign  of  returning  hope,  from  the  liveliness  of  its  colour. 
But  here  it  lies,  shorn  from  his  head,  and,  if  I  may  guess, 
by  no  friendly  hand.  Come,  friend,  to  the  church  —  to 
the  church,  and  thou  shalt  have  my  example  of  the  man- 
ner in  which  De  Walton  ought  to  be  supported  when 
in  danger.' 

He  led  the  way  through  the  town  of  Douglas,  enter- 
ing at  the  southern  gate,  and  up  the  very  street  in 
which  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  had  charged  the  Phantom 
Knight. 

We  can  now  say  more  fully  that  the  church  of  Doug- 
las had  originally  been  a  stately  Gothic  building,  whose 
towers,  arising  high  above  the  walls  of  the  town,  bore 
witness  to  the  grandeur  of  its  original  construction.  It 
was  now  partly  ruinous,  and  the  small  portion  of  open 
space  which  was  retained  for  public  worship  was  fitted 
up  in  the  family  aisle,  where  its  deceased  lords  rested 
from  worldly  labours  and  the  strife  of  war.  From  the 
open  ground  in  the  front  of  the  building  their  eye  could 
pursue  a  considerable  part  of  the  course  of  the  river 
Douglas,  which  approached  the  town  from  the  south- 
west, bordered  by  a  line  of  hills  fantastically  diversified 
in  their  appearance,  and  in  many  places  covered  with 
copsewood,  which  descended  towards  the  valley,  and 
formed  a  part  of  the  tangled  and  intricate  woodland  by 
which  the  town  was  surrounded.  The  river  itself ,  sweep- 

259 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

ing  round  the  west  side  of  the  town,  and  from  thence 
northward,  suppHed  that  large  inundation  or  artificial 
piece  of  water  which  we  have  already  mentioned.  Sev- 
eral of  the  Scottish  people,  bearing  willow  branches,  or 
those  of  yew,  to  represent  the  palms  which  were  the  sym- 
bol of  the  day,  seemed  wandering  in  the  churchyard  as  if 
to  attend  the  approach  of  some  person  of  peculiar  sanc- 
tity, or  procession  of  monks  and  friars,  come  to  render 
the  homage  due  to  the  solemnity.  At  the  moment 
almost  that  Bertram  and  his  companion  entered  the 
churchyard,  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  who  was  in  the  act  of 
following  Sir  John  de  Walton  into  the  church,  after  hav- 
ing witnessed  his  conflict  with  the  young  knight  of 
Douglas,  caught  a  glimpse  of  her  faithful  minstrel,  and 
instantly  determined  to  regain  the  company  of  that  old 
servant  of  her  house  and  confidant  of  her  fortunes,  and 
trust  to  the  chance  afterwards  of  being  rejoined  by  Sir 
John  de  Walton,  with  a  sufiicient  party  to  provide  for 
her  safety,  which  she  in  no  respect  doubted  it  would  be 
his  care  to  collect.  She  darted  away  accordingly  from 
the  path  in  which  she  was  advancing,  and  reached  the 
place  where  Bertram,  with  his  new  acquaintance  Green- 
leaf,  were  making  some  inquiries  of  the  soldiers  of  the 
English  garrison,  whom  the  service  of  the  day  had 
brought  there. 

Lady  Augusta  Berkely,  in  the  mean  time,  had  an 
opportunity  to  say  privately  to  her  faithful  attendant 
and  guide,  'Take  no  notice  of  me,  friend  Bertram,  but 
take  heed,  if  possible,  that  we  be  not  again  separated 
from  each  other.'  Having  given  him  this  hint,  she 
observed  that  it  was  adopted  by  the  minstrel,  and  that 
he  presently  afterwards  looked  round  and  set  his  eye 

260 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

upon  her,  as,  mufl3ed  in  her  pilgrim's  cloak,  she  slowly 
withdrew  to  another  part  of  the  cemetery,  and  seemed 
to  halt,  until,  detaching  himself  from  Greenleaf,  he 
should  find  an  opportunity  of  joining  her. 

Nothing,  in  truth,  could  have  more  sensibly  affected 
the  faithful  minstrel  than  the  singular  mode  of  com- 
munication which  acquainted  him  that  his  mistress  was 
safe,  and  at  liberty  to  choose  her  own  motions,  and,  as 
he  might  hope,  disposed  to  extricate  herself  from  the 
dangers  which  surrounded  her  in  Scotland,  by  an  imme- 
diate retreat  to  her  own  country  and  domain.  He  would 
gladly  have  approached  and  joined  her,  but  she  took  an 
opportunity  by  a  sign  to  caution  him  against  doing  so, 
while  at  the  same  time  he  remained  somewhat  apprehen- 
sive of  the  consequences  of  bringing  her  under  the  notice 
of  his  new  friend,  Greenleaf,  who  might  perhaps  think  it 
proper  to  busy  himself  so  as  to  gain  some  favour  with  the 
knight  who  was  at  the  head  of  the  garrison.  Meantime 
the  old  archer  continued  his  conversation  with  Bertram, 
while  the  minstrel,  like  many  other  men  similarly  situ- 
ated, heartily  wished  that  his  well-meaning  companion 
had  been  a  hundred  fathoms  under  ground,  so  his  evan- 
ishment  had  given  him  license  to  join  his  mistress;  but 
all  he  had  in  his  power  was  to  approach  her  as  near  as  he 
could  without  creating  any  suspicion. 

'I  would  pray  you,  worthy  minstrel,'  said  Greenleaf, 
after  looking  carefully  round,  'that  we  may  prosecute 
together  the  theme  which  we  were  agitating  before  we 
came  hither:  is  it  not  your  opinion  that  the  Scottish 
natives  have  fixed  this  very  morning  for  some  of  those 
dangerous  attempts  which  they  have  repeatedly  made, 
and  which  are  so  carefully  guarded  against  by  the  gov- 

261 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

emors  placed  in  this  district  of  Douglas  by  our  good 
King  Edward,  our  rightful  sovereign?' 

*I  cannot  see,'  replied  the  minstrel,  'on  what  ground 
you  found  such  an  apprehension,  or  what  you  see  here  in 
the  churchyard  different  from  that  you  talked  of  as  we 
approached  it,  when  you  held  me  rather  in  scorn  for  giv- 
ing way  to  some  suspicions  of  the  same  kind.' 

*Do  you  not  see,'  added  the  archer,  'the  numbers  of 
men  with  strange  faces,  and  in  various  disguisements, 
who  are  thronging  about  these  ancient  ruins,  which  are 
usually  so  solitary?  Yonder,  for  example,  sits  a  boy, 
who  seems  to  shun  observation,  and  whose  dress,  I  will 
be  sworn,  has  never  been  shaped  in  Scotland.' 

'And  if  he  is  an  English  pilgrim,'  replied  the  minstrel, 
observing  that  the  archer  pointed  towards  the  Lady  of 
Berkely,  'he  surely  affords  less  matter  of  suspicion.' 

'I  know  not  that,'  said  old  Greenleaf,  'but  I  think  it 
will  be  my  duty  to  inform  Sir  John  de  Walton,  if  I  can 
reach  him,  that  there  are  many  persons  here  who  in 
outward  appearance  neither  belong  to  the  garrison  nor 
to  this  part  of  the  country.' 

'Consider,'  said  Bertram,  'before  you  harass  with 
accusation  a  poor  young  man,  and  subject  him  to  the 
consequences  which  must  necessarily  attend  upon  sus- 
picions of  this  nature,  how  many  circumstances  call 
forth  men  peculiarly  to  devotion  at  this  period.  Not 
only  is  this  the  time  of  the  triumphal  entrance  of  the 
Founder  of  the  Christian  religion  into  Jerusalem,  but  the 
day  itself  is  called  Dominica  Confitentium,  or  the  Sunday 
of  Confessors,  and  the  palm-tree,  or  the  box  and  yew, 
which  are  used  as  its  substitutes,  and  which  are  distri- 
buted to  the  priests,  are  burnt  solemnly  to  ashes,  and 

262 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

those  ashes  distributed  among  the  pious  by  the  priests 
upon  the  Ash  Wednesday  of  the  succeeding  year  —  all 
which  rites  and  ceremonies  in  our  country  are  observed 
by  order  of  the  Christian  Church;  nor  ought  you,  gentle 
archer,  nor  can  you  without  a  crime,  persecute  those  as 
guilty  of  designs  upon  your  garrison  who  can  ascribe 
their  presence  here  to  their  desire  to  discharge  the  duties 
of  the  day;  and  look  ye  at  yon  numerous  procession 
approaching  with  banner  and  cross,  and,  as  it  appears, 
consisting  of  some  churchman  of  rank  and  his  attendants; 
let  us  first  inquire  who  he  is,  and  it  is  probable  we  shall 
find  in  his  name  and  rank  sufficient  security  for  the 
peaceable  and  orderly  behaviour  of  those  whom  piety 
has  this  day  assembled  at  the  church  of  Douglas.' 

Greenleaf  accordingly  made  the  investigation  recom- 
mended by  his  companion,  and  received  information 
that  the  holy  man  who  headed  the  procession  was  no 
other  than  the  diocesan  of  the  district,  the  Bishop  of 
Glasgow,  who  had  come  to  give  his  countenance  to  the 
rites  with  which  the  day  was  to  be  sanctified. 

The  prelate  accordingly  entered  the  walls  of  the  dilap- 
idated churchyard,  preceded  by  his  cross-bearers,  and 
attended  by  numbers,  with  boughs  of  yew  and  other 
evergreens,  used  on  the  festivity  instead  of  palms. 
Among  them  the  holy  father  showered  his  blessing, 
accompanied  by  signs  of  the  cross,  which  were  met  with 
devout  exclamations  by  such  of  the  worshippers  as 
crowded  around  him  —  '  To  thee,  reverend  father,  we 
apply  for  pardon  for  our  offences,  which  we  humbly 
desire  to  confess  to  thee,  in  order  that  we  may  obtain 
pardon  from  Heaven.' 

In  this  manner  the  congregation  and  the  dignified 
263 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

clergyman  met  together,  exchanging  pious  greeting,  and 
seemingly  intent  upon  nothing  but  the  rites  of  the  day. 
The  acclamations  of  the  congregation  mingled  with  the 
deep  voice  of  the  officiating  priest,  dispensing  the  sacred 
ritual,  the  whole  forming  a  scene  which,  conducted  with 
the  Catholic  skill  and  ceremonial,  was  at  once  imposing 
and  affecting. 

The  archer,  on  seeing  the  zeal  with  which  the  people 
in  the  churchyard,  as  well  as  a  number  who  issued  from 
the  church,  hastened  proudly  to  salute  the  bishop  of  the 
diocese,  was  rather  ashamed  of  the  suspicions  which  he 
had  entertained  of  the  sincerity  of  the  good  man's  pur- 
pose in  coming  hither.  Taking  advantage  of  a  fit  of  devo- 
tion, not  perhaps  very  common  with  old  Greenleaf ,  who 
at  this  moment  thrust  himself  forward  to  share  in  those 
spiritual  advantages  which  the  prelate  was  dispensing, 
Bertram  slipped  clear  of  his  English  friend,  and,  gliding 
to  the  side  of  the  Lady  Augusta,  exchanged,  by  the  pres- 
sure of  the  hand,  a  mutual  congratulation  upon  having 
rejoined  company.  On  a  sign  by  the  minstrel,  they  with- 
drew to  the  inside  of  the  church,  so  as  to  remain  unob- 
served amidst  the  crowd,  in  which  they  were  favoured 
by  the  dark  shadows  of  some  parts  of  the  building. 

The  body  of  the  church,  broken  as  it  was,  and  hung 
round  with  the  armorial  trophies  of  the  last  Lords  of 
Douglas,  furnished  rather  the  appearance  of  a  sacrile- 
giously desecrated  ruin  than  the  inside  of  a  holy  place; 
yet  some  care  appeared  to  have  been  taken  to  prepare 
it  for  the  service  of  the  day.  At  the  lower  end  hung  the 
great  escutcheon  of  William  Lord  of  Douglas,  who  had 
lately  died  a  prisoner  in  England ;  around  that  escutcheon 
were  placed  the  smaller  shields  of  his  sixteen  ancestors, 

264 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

and  a  deep  black  shadow  was  diffused  by  the  whole  mass, 
unless  where  relieved  by  the  glance  of  the  coronets  or 
the  glimmer  of  bearings  particularly  gay  in  emblazonry. 
I  need  not  say  that  in  other  respects  the  interior  of 
the  church  was  much  dismantled;  it  being  the  very  same 
place  in  which  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence  held  an  interview 
with  the  old  sexton,  and  who  now,  drawing  into  a  sepa- 
rate corner  some  of  the  straggling  parties  whom  he  had 
collected  and  brought  to  the  church,  kept  on  the  alert, 
and  appeared  ready  for  an  attack  as  well  at  mid-day  as 
at  the  witching  hour  of  midnight.  This  was  the  more 
necessary,  as  the  eye  of  Sir  John  de  Walton  seemed 
busied  in  searching  from  one  place  to  another,  as  if 
unable  to  find  the  object  he  was  in  quest  of,  which  the 
reader  will  easily  understand  to  be  the  Lady  Augusta  de 
Berkely,  of  whom  he  had  lost  sight  in  the  pressure  of  the 
multitude.  At  the  eastern  part  of  the  church  was  fitted 
up  a  temporary  altar,  by  the  side  of  which,  arrayed  in  his 
robes,  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow  had  taken  his  place,  with 
such  priests  and  attendants  as  composed  his  episcopal 
retinue.  His  suite  was  neither  numerous  nor  richly 
attired,  nor  did  his  own  appearance  present  a  splendid 
specimen  of  the  wealth  and  dignity  of  the  episcopal 
order.  When  he  laid  down,  however,  his  golden  cross, 
at  the  stern  command  of  the  King  of  England,  that  of 
simple  wood,  which  he  assumed  instead  thereof,  did  not 
possess  less  authority  nor  command  less  awe  among  the 
clergy  and  people  of  the  diocese. 

The  various  persons,  natives  of  Scotland,  now  gath- 
ered around  seemed  to  watch  his  motions,  as  those  of  a 
descended  saint,  and  the  English  waited  in  mute  aston- 
ishment, apprehensive  that  at  some  unexpected  signal 

265 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

an  attack  would  be  made  upon  them,  either  by  the 
powers  of  earth  or  heaven,  or  perhaps  by  both  m  com- 
bination. The  truth  is,  that  so  great  was  the  devotion 
of  the  Scottish  clergy  of  the  higher  ranks  to  the  interests 
of  the  party  of  Bruce,  that  the  English  had  become  jeal- 
ous of  permitting  them  to  interfere  even  with  those  cere- 
monies of  the  church  which  were  placed  under  their  pro- 
per management,  and  thence  the  presence  of  the  Bishop 
of  Glasgow,  oiSiciating  at  a  high  festival  in  the  church  of 
Douglas,  was  a  circumstance  of  rare  occurrence,  and  not 
unattended  both  with  wonder  and  suspicion.  A  council 
of  the  church,  however,  had  lately  called  the  distin- 
guished prelates  of  Scotland  to  the  discharge  of  their 
duty  on  the  festivity  of  Palm  Sunday,  and  neither  Eng- 
lish nor  Scottish  saw  the  ceremony  with  indifference. 
An  unwonted  silence  which  prevailed  in  the  church,  filled, 
as  it  appeared,  with  persons  of  different  views,  hopes, 
wishes,  and  expectations,  resembled  one  of  those  solemn 
pauses  which  often  take  place  before  a  strife  of  the  ele- 
ments, and  are  well  understood  to  be  the  forerunners  of 
some  dreadful  concussion  of  nature.  All  animals,  accord- 
ing to  their  various  nature,  express  their  sense  of  the 
approaching  tempest:  the  cattle,  the  deer,  and  other 
inhabitants  of  the  walks  of  the  forest,  withdraw  to  the 
inmost  recesses  of  their  pastures;  the  sheep  crowd  into 
their  fold;  and  the  dull  stupor  of  universal  nature, 
whether  animate  or  inanimate,  presages  its  speedily 
awaking  into  general  con\ailsion  and  disturbance, 
when  the  lurid  lightning  shall  hiss  at  command  of  the 
diapason  of  the  thunder. 

It  was  thus  that,  in  deep  suspense,  those  who  had 
come  to  the  church  in  arms  at  the  summons  of  Douglas 

266 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

awaited  and  expected  every  moment  a  signal  to  attack; 
while  the  soldiers  of  the  English  garrison,  aware  of  the 
evil  disposition  of  the  natives  towards  them,  were  reck- 
oning every  moment  when  the  well-known  shout  of 
'Bows  and  bills!'  should  give  signal  for  a  general  con- 
flict, and  both  parties,  gazing  fiercely  upon  each  other, 
seemed  to  expect  the  fatal  onset. 

Notwithstanding  the  tempest,  which  appeared  every 
moment  ready  to  burst,  the  Bishop  of  Glasgow  pro- 
ceeded with  the  utmost  solemnity  to  perform  the  cere- 
monies proper  to  the  day;  he  paused  from  time  to  time 
to  survey  the  throng,  as  if  to  calculate  whether  the  tur- 
bulent passions  of  those  around  him  would  be  so  long 
kept  under  as  to  admit  of  his  duties  being  brought  to  a 
close  in  a  manner  becoming  the  time  and  place. 

The  prelate  had  just  concluded  the  service,  when  a 
person  advanced  towards  him  with  a  solemn  and 
mournful  aspect,  and  asked  if  the  reverend  father  could 
devote  a  few  moments  to  administer  comfort  to  a  dying 
man  who  was  lying  wounded  close  by. 

The  churchman  signified  a  ready  acquiescence,  amidst 
a  stillness  which,  when  he  surveyed  the  lowering  brows 
of  one  party  at  least  of  those  who  were  in  the  church, 
boded  no  peaceable  termination  to  this  fated  day.  The 
father  motioned  to  the  messenger  to  show  him  the  way, 
and  proceeded  on  his  mission,  attended  by  some  of  those 
who  were  understood  to  be  followers  of  the  Douglas. 

There  was  something  peculiarly  striking,  if  not  sus- 
picious, in  the  interview  which  followed.  In  a  subterra- 
nean vault  was  deposited  the  person  of  a  large,  tall  man, 
whose  blood  flowed  copiously  through  two  or  three 
ghastly  wounds,  and  streamed  amongst  the  trusses  of 

267 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

straw  on  which  he  lay;  while  his  features  exhibited  a 
mixture  of  sternness  and  ferocity,  which  seemed  prompt 
to  kindle  into  a  still  more  savage  expression. 

The  reader  will  probably  conjecture  that  the  person 
in  question  was  no  other  than  Michael  Tumbull,  who, 
wounded  in  the  rencounter  of  the  morning,  had  been 
left  by  some  of  his  friends  upon  the  straw,  which  was 
arranged  for  him  by  way  of  couch,  to  live  or  die  as  he 
best  could.  The  prelate,  on  entering  the  vault,  lost  no 
time  in  calling  the  attention  of  the  wounded  man  to  the 
state  of  his  spiritual  affairs,  and  assisting  him  to  such 
comfort  as  the  doctrine  of  the  church  directed  should  be 
administered  to  departing  sinners.  The  words  exchanged 
between  them  were  of  that  grave  and  severe  character 
which  passes  between  the  ghostly  father  and  his  pupil, 
when  one  world  is  rolling  away  from  the  view  of  the 
sinner  and  another  is  displaying  itself  in  all  its  terrors, 
and  thundering  in  the  ear  of  the  penitent  that  retribu- 
tion which  the  deeds  done  in  the  flesh  must  needs  pre- 
pare him  to  expect.  This  is  one  of  the  most  solemn  meet- 
ings which  can  take  place  between  earthly  beings,  and 
the  courageous  character  of  the  Jedwood  forester,  as 
well  as  the  benevolent  and  pious  expression  of  the  old 
churchman,  considerably  enhanced  the  pathos  of  the 
scene. 

'Tumbull,'  said  the  churchman,  *I  trust  you  will 
believe  me  when  I  say  that  it  grieves  my  heart  to  see 
thee  brought  to  this  situation  by  wounds  which,  it  is  my 
duty  to  tell  you,  you  must  consider  mortal.' 

'Is  the  chase  ended  then?'  said  the  Jedwood  man 
with  a  sigh.  '  I  care  not,  good  father,  for  I  think  I  have 
borne  me  as  becomes  a  gallant  quarry,  and  that  the  old 

268 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

forest  has  lost  no  credit  by  me,  whether  in  pursuit  or  in 
bringing  to  bay;  and  even  in  this  last  matter,  methinks 
this  gay  English  knight  would  not  have  come  off  with 
such  advantage  had  the  ground  on  which  we  stood  been 
alike  indifferent  to  both,  or  had  I  been  aware  of  his  onset, 
but  it  will  be  seen,  by  any  one  who  takes  the  trouble  to 
examine,  that  poor  Michael  Turnbull's  foot  slipped 
twice  in  the  melee,  otherwise  it  had  not  been  his  fate  to 
be  lying  here  in  the  dead-thraw;  while  yonder  Southron 
would  probably  have  died  like  a  dog  upon  this  bloody 
straw  in  his  place.' 

The  bishop  replied,  advising  his  penitent  to  turn  from 
vindictive  thoughts  respecting  the  death  of  others,  and 
endeavour  to  fix  his  attention  upon  his  own  departure 
from  existence,  which  seemed  shortly  about  to  take 
place. 

*Nay,'  replied  the  wounded  man,  'you,  father,  un- 
doubtedly know  best  what  is  fit  for  me  to  do;  yet 
methinks  it  would  not  be  very  well  with  me  if  I  had  pro- 
longed to  this  time  of  day  the  task  of  revising  my  life, 
and  I  am  not  the  man  to  deny  that  mine  has  been  a 
bloody  and  a  desperate  one.  But  you  will  grant  me  I 
never  bore  malice  to  a  brave  enemy  for  having  done  me 
an  injury,  and  show  me  the  man,  being  a  Scotchman 
born  and  having  a  natural  love  for  his  own  country,  who 
hath  not,  in  these  times,  rather  preferred  a  steel  cap  to 
a  hat  and  feather,  or  who  hath  not  been  more  conver- 
sant with  drawn  blades  than  with  prayer-book ;  and  you 
yourself  know,  father,  whether,  in  our  proceedings 
against  the  English  interest,  we  have  not  uniformly  had 
the  countenance  of  the  sincere  fathers  of  the  Scottish 
Church,  and  whether  we  have  not  been  exhorted  to  take 

269 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

arms  and  make  use  of  them  for  the  honour  of  the  King 
of  Scotland  and  the  defence  of  our  own  rights.' 

'Undoubtedly/  said  the  prelate,  'such  have  been  our 
exhortations  towards  our  oppressed  countrymen,  nor  do 
I  now  teach  you  a  different  doctrine;  nevertheless,  hav- 
ing now  blood  around  me,  and  a  dying  man  before  me, 
I  have  need  to  pray  that  I  have  not  been  misled  from 
the  true  path,  and  thus  become  the  means  of  misdirect- 
ing others.  May  Heaven  forgive  me  if  I  have  done  so, 
since  I  have  only  to  plead  my  sincere  and  honest  inten- 
tion in  excuse  for  the  erroneous  counsel  which  I  may 
have  given  to  you  and  others  touching  these  wars.  I  am 
conscious  that,  encouraging  you  so  to  stain  your  swords 
in  blood,  I  have  departed  in  some  degree  from  the  char- 
acter of  my  profession,  which  enjoins  that  we  neither 
shed  blood  nor  are  the  occasion  of  its  being  shed.  May 
Heaven  enable  us  to  obey  our  duties  and  to  repent  of  our 
errors,  especially  such  as  have  occasioned  the  death  or 
distress  of  our  fellow-creatures!  And,  above  all,  may 
this  dying  Christian  become  aware  of  his  errors,  and  re- 
pent with  sincerity  of  having  done  to  others  that  which 
he  would  not  willingly  have  suffered  at  their  hand ! ' 

'For  that  matter,'  answered  Turnbull,  'the  time  has 
never  been  when  I  would  not  exchange  a  blow  with  the 
best  man  who  ever  lived;  and  if  I  was  not  in  constant 
practice  of  the  sword,  it  was  because  I  have  been 
brought  up  to  the  use  of  the  Jedwood-axe,  which  the 
English  call  a  partizan,  and  which  makes  little  differ- 
ence, I  understand,  from  the  sword  and  poniard.' 

'The  distinction  is  not  great,'  said  the  bishop;  'but  I 
fear,  my  friend,  that  life  taken  with  what  you  call  a  Jed- 
wood-axe gives  you  no  privilege  over  him  who  commits 

270 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

the  same  deed,  and  inflicts  the  same  injury,  with  any 
other  weapon.' 

'Nay,  worthy  father,'  said  the  penitent,  'I  must  own 
that  the  effect  of  the  weapons  is  the  same  as  far  as  con- 
cerns the  man  who  suffers;  but  I  would  pray  of  you  in- 
formation, why  a  Jedwood  man  ought  not  to  use,  as  is 
the  custom  of  his  country,  a  Jedwood-axe,  being,  as  is 
implied  in  the  name,  the  offensive  weapon  proper  to  his 
country? ' 

'The  crime  of  murder,'  said  the  bishop,  'consists  not 
in  the  weapon  with  which  the  crime  is  inflicted,  but  in 
the  pain  which  the  murderer  inflicts  upon  his  fellow- 
creature,  and  the  breach  of  good  order  which  he  intro- 
duces into  Heaven's  lovely  and  peaceable  creation; 
and  it  is  by  turning  your  repentance  upon  this  crime 
that  you  may  fairly  expect  to  propitiate  Heaven  for 
your  offences,  and  at  the  same  time  to  escape  the  con- 
sequences which  are  denounced  in  Holy  Writ  against 
those  by  whom  man's  blood  shall  be  shed.' 

'But,  good  father,'  said  the  wounded  man,  'you  know 
as  well  as  any  one  that  in  this  company,  and  in  this  very 
church,  there  are  upon  the  watch  scores  of  both  Scotch- 
men and  Englishmen,  who  come  here  not  so  much  to 
discharge  the  religious  duties  of  the  day  as  literally  to 
bereave  each  other  of  their  lives,  and  give  a  new  exam- 
ple of  the  horror  of  those  feuds  which  the  two  extremi- 
ties of  Britain  nourish  against  each  other.  What  con- 
duct, then,  is  a  poor  man  like  me  to  hold?  Am  I  not  to 
raise  this  hand  against  the  English,  which  methinks  I 
still  can  make  a  tolerably  efficient  one;  or  am  I,  for  the 
first  time  in  my  life,  to  hear  the  war-cry  when  it  is  raised, 
and  hold  back  my  sword  from  the  slaughter?  Methinks 

271 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

it  will  be  difScult,  perhaps  altogether  impossible,  for  me 
to  do  so ;  but  if  such  is  the  pleasure  of  Heaven,  and  your 
advice,  most  reverend  father,  unquestionably  I  must  do 
my  best  to  be  governed  by  your  directions,  as  of  one  who 
has  a  right  and  title  to  direct  us  in  every  dilemma,  or 
case,  as  they  term  it,  of  troubled  conscience.' 

'Unquestionably,'  said  the  bishop,  'it  is  my  duty,  as  I 
have  already  said,  to  give  no  occasion  this  day  for  the 
shedding  of  blood  or  the  breach  of  peace;  and  I  must 
charge  you,  as  my  penitent,  that,  upon  your  soul's 
safety,  you  do  not  minister  any  occasion  to  affray  or 
bloodshed,  either  by  maintaining  such  in  your  own  per- 
son or  inciting  others  to  the  same;  for,  by  following  a 
different  course  of  advice,  I  am  certain  that  you,  as  well 
as  myself,  would  act  sinfully  and  out  of  character,' 

*So  I  will  endeavour  to  think,  reverend  father/ 
answered  the  huntsman;  'nevertheless,  I  hope  it  will  be 
remembered  in  my  favour  that  I  am  the  first  person 
bearing  the  surname  of  Turnbull,  together  with  the  pro- 
per name  of  the  Prince  of  Archangels  himself,  who  has 
at  any  time  been  able  to  sustain  the  affront  occasioned 
by  the  presence  of  a  Southron  with  a  drawn  sword,  and 
was  not  thereby  provoked  to  pluck  forth  his  own  weapon 
and  to  lay  about  him.' 

'Take  care,  my  son,'  returned  the  prelate  of  Glasgow, 
'and  observe  that  even  now  thou  art  departing  from 
those  resolutions  which,  but  a  few  minutes  since,  thou 
didst  adopt  upon  serious  and  just  consideration;  where- 
fore do  not  be,  O  my  son!  like  the  sow  that  has  wallowed 
in  the  mire,  and,  having  been  washed,  repeats  its  act  of 
pollution,  and  becomes  again  yet  fouler  than  it  was 
before.' 

272 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'Well,  reverend  father/  replied  the  wounded  man, 
'although  it  seems  almost  unnatural  for  Scottish  men 
and  English  to  meet  and  part  without  a  buffet,  yet  I  will 
endeavour  most  faithfully  not  to  minister  any  occasion 
of  strife,  nor,  if  possible,  to  snatch  at  any  such  occasion 
as  shall  be  ministered  to  me.' 

'In  doing  so,'  returned  the  bishop,  'thou  wilt  best 
atone  for  the  injury  which  thou  hast  done  to  the  law  of 
Heaven  upon  former  occasions,  and  thou  shalt  prevent 
the  causes  for  strife  betwixt  thee  and  thy  brethren  of 
the  southern  land,  and  shalt  eschew  the  temptation  to- 
wards that  bloodguiltiness  which  is  so  rife  in  this  our  day 
and  generation.  And  do  not  think  that  I  am  imposing 
upon  thee,  by  these  admonitions,  a  duty  more  difficult 
than  it  is  in  thy  covenant  to  bear,  as  a  man  and  as  a 
Christian.  I  myself  am  a  man,  and  a  Scotchman,  and, 
as  such,  I  feel  offended  at  the  unjust  conduct  of  the  Eng- 
lish towards  our  country  and  sovereign ;  and  thinking  as 
you  do  yourself,  I  know  what  you  must  suffer  when  you 
are  obliged  to  submit  to  national  insults,  unretaliated 
and  unrevenged.  But  let  us  not  conceive  ourselves  the 
agents  of  that  retributive  vengeance  which  Heaven  has, 
in  a  peculiar  degree,  declared  to  be  its  own  attribute. 
Let  us,  while  we  see  and  feel  the  injuries  inflicted  on  our 
own  country,  not  forget  that  our  own  raids,  ambuscades, 
and  surprisals  have  been  at  least  equally  fatal  to  the 
English  as  their  attacks  and  forays  have  been  to  us;  and, 
in  short,  let  the  mutual  injuries  of  the  crosses  of  St. 
Andrew  and  of  St.  George  be  no  longer  considered  as 
hostile  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  opposite  district,  at 
least  during  the  festivals  of  religion;  but,  as  they  are 
mutually  signs  of  redemption,  let  them  be,  in  like 
46  273 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

manner,  intimations  of  forbearance  and  peace  on  both 
sides.' 

*I  am  contented/  answered  TurnbuU,  'to  abstain 
from  all  offences  towards  others,  and  shall  even  endeav- 
our to  keep  myself  from  resenting  those  of  others  to- 
wards me,  in  the  hope  of  bringing  to  pass  such  a 
quiet  and  godly  state  of  things  as  your  words,  rever- 
end father,  induce  me  to  expect.'  Turning  his  face  to 
the  wall,  the  Borderer  lay  in  stern  expectation  of  ap- 
proaching death,  which  the  bishop  left  him  to  contem- 
plate. 

The  peaceful  disposition  which  the  prelate  had  inspired 
into  Michael  Turnbull  had  in  some  degree  diffused  itself 
among  those  present,  who  heard  with  awe  the  spiritual 
admonition  to  suspend  the  national  antipathy,  and  re- 
main in  truce  and  amity  with  each  other.  Heaven  had, 
however,  decreed  that  the  national  quarrel,  in  which  so 
much  blood  had  been  sacrificed,  should  that  day  again 
be  the  occasion  of  deadly  strife. 

A  loud  flourish  of  trumpets,  seeming  to  proceed  from 
beneath  the  earth,  now  rung  through  the  church,  and 
roused  the  attention  of  the  soldiers  and  worshippers 
then  assembled.  Most  of  those  who  heard  these  warlike 
sounds  betook  themselves  to  their  weapons,  as  if  they 
considered  it  useless  to  wait  any  longer  for  the  signal  of 
conflict.  Hoarse  voices,  rude  exclamations,  the  rattle  of 
swords  against  their  sheaths,  or  their  clashing  against 
other  pieces  of  armour,  gave  an  awful  presage  of  an  onset, 
which,  however,  was  for  a  time  averted  by  the  exhorta- 
tions of  the  bishop.  A  second  flourish  of  trumpets  hav- 
ing taken  place,  the  voice  of  a  herald  made  proclama- 
tion to  the  following  purpose :  — 

274 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

'That  whereas  there  were  many  noble  pursuivants  of 
chivalry  presently  assembled  in  the  kirk  of  Douglas,  and 
whereas  there  existed  among  them  the  usual  causes  of 
quarrel  and  points  of  debate  for  their  advancement  in 
chivalry,  therefore  the  Scottish  knights  were  ready  to 
fight  any  number  of  the  English  who  might  be  agreed, 
either  upon  the  superior  beauty  of  their  ladies,  or  upon 
the  national  quarrel  in  any  of  its  branches,  or  upon 
whatsoever  point  might  be  at  issue  between  them,  which 
should  be  deemed  satisfactory  ground  of  quarrel  by 
both ;  and  the  knights  who  should  chance  to  be  worsted 
in  such  dispute  should  renounce  the  prosecution  thereof, 
or  the  bearing  arms  therein  thereafter,  with  such  other 
conditions  to  ensue  upon  their  defeat  as  might  be  agreed 
upon  by  a  council  of  the  knights  present  at  the  kirk  of 
Douglas  aforesaid.  But  foremost  of  all,  any  number  of 
Scottish  knights,  from  one  to  twenty,  will  defend  the 
quarrel  which  has  already  drawn  blood,  touching  the 
freedom  of  Lady  Augusta  de  Berkely,  and  the  rendition 
of  Douglas  Castle  to  the  owner  here  present.  Where- 
fore it  is  required  that  the  English  knights  do  intimate 
their  consent  that  such  trial  of  valour  take  place,  which, 
according  to  the  rules  of  chivalry,  they  cannot  refuse, 
without  losing  utterly  the  reputation  of  valour,  and 
incurring  the  diminution  of  such  other  degree  of  estima- 
tion as  a  courageous  pursuivant  of  arms  would  willingly 
be  held  in,  both  by  the  good  knights  of  his  own  country 
and  those  of  others.' 

This  unexpected  gage  of  battle  realised  the  worst  fears 
of  those  who  had  looked  with  suspicion  on  the  extraor- 
dinary assemblage  this  day  of  the  dependants  of  the 
house  of  Douglas.  After  a  short  pause,  the  trumpets 

275 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


again  flourished  lustily,  when  the  reply  of  the  English 
knights  was  made  in  the  following  terms:  — 

'That  God  forbid  the  rights  and  privileges  of  Eng- 
land's knights,  and  the  beauty  of  her  damsels,  should 
not  be  asserted  by  her  children,  or  that  such  English 
knights  as  were  here  assembled  should  show  the  least 
backwardness  to  accept  the  combat  offered,  whether 
grounded  upon  the  superior  beauty  of  their  ladies  or 
whether  upon  the  causes  of  dispute  between  the  coun- 
tries, for  either  or  all  of  which  the  knights  of  England 
here  present  were  willing  to  do  battle  in  the  terms  of  the 
indenture  aforesaid,  while  sword  and  lance  shall  endure. 
Saving  and  excepting  the  surrender  of  the  Castle  of 
Douglas,  which  can  be  rendered  to  no  one  but  England's 
king,  or  those  acting  under  his  orders.' 


CHAPTER  XX 

Cry  the  wild  war-note,  let  the  champions  pass. 

Do  bravely  each,  and  God  defend  the  right; 

Upon  St.  Andrew  thrice  can  they  thus  cry, 

And  thrice  they  shout  on  height, 

And  then  marked  them  on  the  Englishmen, 

As  I  have  told  you  right. 

St.  George  the  bright,  our  ladies'  knight, 

To  name  they  were  full  fain; 

Our  Englishmen  they  cried  on  height, 

And  thrice  they  shout  again. 

Old  Ballad. 

The  extraordinary  crisis  mentioned  in  the  preceding 
chapter  was  the  cause,  as  may  be  supposed,  of  the 
leaders  on  both  sides  now  throwing  aside  all  conceal- 
ment, and  displaying  their  utmost  strength,  by  marshall- 
ing their  respective  adherents;  the  renowned  knight  of 
Douglas,  with  Sir  Malcolm  Fleming  and  other  distin- 
guished cavaliers,  were  seen  in  close  consultation. 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  startled  by  the  first  flourish  of 
trumpets,  while  anxiously  endeavouring  to  secure  a 
retreat  for  the  Lady  Augusta,  was  in  a  moment  seen 
collecting  his  followers,  in  which  he  was  assisted  by  the 
active  friendship  of  the  knight  of  Valence. 

The  Lady  of  Berkely  showed  no  craven  spirit  at  these 
warlike  preparations :  she  advanced,  closely  followed  by 
the  faithful  Bertram,  and  a  female  in  a  riding-hood, 
whose  face,  though  carefully  concealed,  was  no  other 
than  that  of  the  unfortunate  Margaret  de  Hautlieu, 
whose  worst  fears  had  been  realised  as  to  the  faithless- 
ness of  her  betrothed  knight. 

A  pause  ensued,  which  for  some  time  no  one  present 
thought  himself  of  authority  sufficient  to  break. 

277 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

At  last  the  knight  of  Douglas  stepped  forward  and 
said  loudly,  *  I  wait  to  know  whether  Sir  John  de  Wal- 
ton requests  leave  of  James  of  Douglas  to  evacuate  his 
castle  without  further  wasting  that  daylight  which 
might  show  us  to  judge  a  fair  field,  and  whether  he 
craves  Douglas's  protection  in  doing  so? ' 

The  knight  of  Walton  drew  his  sword.  *I  hold  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,' he  said,  *  in  spite  of  all  deadly;  and 
never  will  I  ask  the  protection  from  any  one  which  my 
own  sword  is  competent  to  afford  me.' 

*I  stand  by  you.  Sir  John,'  said  Aymer  de  Valence, 
'as  your  true  comrade,  against  whatever  odds  may 
oppose  themselves  to  us.' 

'Courage,  noble  English,'  said  the  voice  of  Greenleaf; 
'take  your  weapons,  in  God's  name.  Bows  and  bills  — 
bows  and  bills !  A  messenger  brings  us  notice  that  Pem- 
broke is  in  full  march  hither  from  the  borders  of  Ayr- 
shire, and  will  be  with  us  in  half  an  hour.  Fight  on, 
gallant  English !  Valence  to  the  rescue !  and  long  life  to 
the  gallant  Earl  of  Pembroke ! ' 

Those  English  within  and  around  the  church  no  lon- 
ger delayed  to  take  arms,  and  De  Walton,  crying  out  at 
the  height  of  his  voice,  'I  implore  the  Douglas  to  look 
nearly  to  the  safety  of  the  ladies,'  fought  his  way  to  the 
church  door,  the  Scottish  finding  themselves  unable  to 
resist  the  impression  of  terror  which  afTected  them  at 
the  sight  of  this  renowned  knight,  seconded  by  his  bro- 
ther-in-arms,  both  of  whom  had  been  so  long  the  terror 
of  the  district.  In  the  mean  time,  it  is  possible  that  De 
Walton  might  altogether  have  forced  his  way  out  of  the 
church,  had  he  not  been  met  boldly  by  the  young  son 
of  Thomas  Dickson  of  Hazelside,  while  his  father  was 

278 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

receiving  from  Douglas  the  charge  of  preserving  the 
stranger  ladies  from  all  harm  from  the  fight,  which,  so 
long  suspended,  was  now  on  the  point  of  taking  place. 

De  Walton  cast  his  eye  upon  the  Lady  Augusta,  with 
a  desire  of  rushing  to  the  rescue;  but  was  forced  to  con- 
clude that  he  provided  best  for  her  safety  by  leaving  her 
under  the  protection  of  Douglas's  honour. 

Young  Dickson,  in  the  mean  time,  heaped  blow  on 
blow,  seconding  with  all  his  juvenile  courage  every  effort 
he  could  make,  in  order  to  attain  the  prize  due  to  the 
conqueror  of  the  renowned  De  Walton. 

'Silly  boy,' at  length  said  Sir  John,  who  had  for  some 
time  forborne  the  stripling,  'take,  then,  thy  death  from 
a  noble  hand,  since  thou  preferrest  that  to  peace  and 
length  of  days.' 

*I  care  not,'  said  the  Scottish  youth,  with  his  dying 
breath:  'I  have  lived  long  enough,  since  I  have  kept  you 
so  long  in  the  place  where  you  now  stand.' 

And  the  youth  said  truly,  for,  as  he  fell  never  again  to 
rise,  the  Douglas  stood  in  his  place,  and,  without  a  word 
spoken,  again  engaged  with  De  Walton  in  the  same  for- 
midable single  combat  by  which  they  had  already  been 
distinguished,  but  with  even  additional  fury.  Aymer  de 
Valence  drew  up  to  his  friend  De  Walton's  left  hand, 
and  seemed  but  to  desire  the  apology  of  one  of  Douglas's 
people  attempting  to  second  him  to  join  in  the  fray;  but 
as  he  saw  no  person  who  seemed  disposed  to  give  him 
such  opportunity,  he  repressed  the  inclination,  and 
remained  an  unwilling  spectator.  At  length  it  seemed  as 
if  Fleming,  who  stood  foremost  among  the  Scottish 
knights,  was  desirous  to  measure  his  sword  with  De  Val- 
ence. Aymer  himself,  burning  with  the  desire  of  com- 

279 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

bat,  at  last  called  out,  'Faithless  knight  of  Boghall,  step 
forth  and  defend  yourself  against  the  imputation  of  hav- 
ing deserted  your  lady-love,  and  of  being  a  mansworn 
disgrace  to  the  rolls  of  chivalry ! ' 

'  My  answer,'  said  Fleming,  *  even  to  a  less  gross  taunt, 
hangs  by  my  side.'  In  an  instant  his  sword  was  in  his 
hand,  and  even  the  practised  warriors  who  looked  on  felt 
difficulty  in  discovering  the  progress  of  the  strife,  which 
rather  resembled  a  thunderstorm  in  a  mountainous  coun- 
try than  the  stroke  and  parry  of  two  swords,  offending 
on  the  one  side  and  keeping  the  defensive  on  the 
other. 

Their  blows  were  exchanged  with  surprising  rapidity; 
and  although  the  two  combatants  did  not  equal  Doug- 
las and  De  Walton  in  maintaining  a  certain  degree  of 
reserve,  founded  upon  a  respect  which  these  knights 
mutually  entertained  for  each  other,  yet  the  want  of  art 
was  supplied  by  a  degree  of  fury  which  gave  chance  at 
least  an  equal  share  in  the  issue. 

Seeing  their  superiors  thus  desperately  engaged,  the 
partizans,  as  they  were  accustomed,  stood  still  on  either 
side,  and  looked  on  with  the  reverence  which  they  in- 
stinctively paid  to  their  commanders  and  leaders  in 
arms.  One  or  two  of  the  women  were  in  the  mean  time 
attracted,  according  to  the  nature  of  the  sex,  by  com- 
passion for  those  who  had  already  experienced  the  casu- 
alties of  war.  Young  Dickson,  breathing  his  last  among 
the  feet  of  the  combatants,^  was  in  some  sort  rescued 
from  the  tumult  by  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  in  whom  the 
action  seemed  less  strange,  owing  to  the  pilgrim's  dress 
which  she  still  retained,  and  who  in  vain  endeavoured  to 
*  See  Note  9. 
280 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

solicit  the  attention  of  the  boy's  father  to  the  task  in 
which  she  was  engaged. 

'  Cumber  yourself  not,  lady,  about  that  which  is  boot- 
less,' said  old  Dickson,  'and  distract  not  your  own  atten- 
tion and  mine  from  preserving  you,  whom  it  is  the  Doug- 
las's wish  to  rescue,  and  whom,  so  please  God  and  St. 
Bride,  I  consider  as  placed  by  my  chieftain  under  my 
charge.  Believe  me,  this  youth's  death  is  in  no  way  for- 
gotten, though  this  be  not  the  time  to  remember  it.  A 
time  will  come  for  recollection,  and  an  hour  for  revenge.' 

So  said  the  stern  old  man,  reverting  his  eyes  from  the 
bloody  corpse  which  lay  at  his  feet,  a  model  of  beauty 
and  strength.  Having  taken  one  more  anxious  look,  he 
turned  round,  and  placed  himself  where  he  could  best 
protect  the  Lady  of  Berkely,  not  again  turning  his  eyes 
on  his  son's  body. 

In  the  interim  the  combat  continued,  without  the  least 
cessation  on  either  side,  and  without  a  decided  advantage. 
At  length,  however,  fate  seemed  disposed  to  interfere :  the 
knight  of  Fleming,  pushing  fiercely  forward,  and  brought 
by  chance  almost  close  to  the  person  of  the  Lady  Mar- 
garet de  Hautlieu,  missed  his  blow,  and  his  foot  sliding 
in  the  blood  of  the  young  victim,  Dickson,  he  fell  before 
his  antagonist,  and  was  in  imminent  danger  of  being  at 
his  mercy,  when  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  who  inherited 
the  soul  of  a  warrior,  and,  besides,  was  a  very  strong,  as 
well  as  an  undaunted,  person,  seeing  a  mace  of  no  great 
weight  lying  on  the  floor,  where  it  had  been  dropt  by  the 
fallen  Dickson  —  it  at  the  same  instant  caught  her  eye, 
armed  her  hand,  and  intercepted  or  struck  down  the 
sword  of  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence,  who  would  otherwise 
have  remained  the  master  of  the  day  at  that  interesting 

281 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

moment.  Fleming  had  more  to  do  to  avail  himself  of  an 
unexpected  chance  of  recovery  than  to  make  a  commen- 
tary upon  the  manner  in  which  it  had  been  so  singularly 
brought  about:  he  instantly  recovered  the  advantage 
he  had  lost,  and  was  able  in  the  ensuing  close  to  trip  up 
the  feet  of  his  antagonist,  who  fell  on  the  pavement,  while 
the  voice  of  his  conqueror,  if  he  could  properly  be  termed 
such,  resounded  through  the  church  with  the  fatal  words, 
'Yield  thee,  Aymer  de  Valence  —  rescue  or  no  rescue; 
yield  thee  —  yield  thee!'  he  added,  as  he  placed  his 
sword  to  the  throat  of  the  fallen  knight,  'not  to  me,  but 
to  this  noble  lady  —  rescue  or  no  rescue.' 

With  a  heavy  heart  the  English  knight  perceived  that 
he  had  fairly  lost  so  favourable  an  opportunity  of  acquir- 
ing fame,  and  was  obliged  to  submit  to  his  destiny,  or  be 
slain  upon  the  spot.  There  was  only  one  consolation, 
that  no  battle  was  ever  more  honourably  sustained,  being 
gained  as  much  by  accident  as  by  valour. 

The  fate  of  the  protracted  and  desperate  combat 
between  Douglas  and  De  Walton  did  not  much  longer 
remain  in  suspense;  indeed,  the  number  of  conquests  in 
single  combat  achieved  by  the  Douglas  in  these  wars 
was  so  great  as  to  make  it  doubtful  whether  he  was  not, 
in  personal  strength  and  skill,  even  a  superior  knight  to 
Bruce  himself,  and  he  was  at  least  acknowledged  nearly 
his  equal  in  the  art  of  war. 

So,  however,  it  was  that,  when  three-quarters  of  an 
hour  had  passed  in  hard  contest,  Douglas  and  De  Wal- 
ton, whose  nerves  were  not  actually  of  iron,  began  to 
show  some  signs  that  their  human  bodies  were  feeling 
the  efifect  of  the  dreadful  exertion.  Their  blows  began 
to  be  drawn  more  slowly,  and  were  parried  with  less 

282 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

celerity.  Douglas,  seeing  that  the  combat  must  soon 
come  to  an  end,  generously  made  a  signal,  intimating  to 
his  antagonist  to  hold  his  hand  for  an  instant. 

'Brave  De  Walton,'  he  said,  'there  is  no  mortal  quar- 
rel between  us,  and  you  must  be  sensible  that  in  this  pas- 
sage of  arms  Douglas,  though  he  is  only  worth  his  sword 
and  his  cloak,  has  abstained  from  taking  a  decisive  ad- 
vantage when  the  chance  of  arms  has  more  than  once 
offered  it.  My  father's  house,  the  broad  domains  around 
it,  the  dwelling,  and  the  graves  of  my  ancestors,  form  a 
reasonable  reward  for  a  knight  to  fight  for,  and  call 
upon  me  in  an  imperative  voice  to  prosecute  the  strife 
which  has  such  an  object,  while  you  are  as  welcome  to 
the  noble  lady,  in  all  honour  and  safety,  as  if  you  had 
received  her  from  the  hands  of  King  Edward  himself; 
and  I  give  you  my  word,  that  the  utmost  honours  which 
can  attend  a  prisoner,  and  a  careful  absence  of  every- 
thing like  injury  or  insult,  shall  attend  De  Walton  when 
he  yields  up  the  castle,  as  well  as  his  sword,  to  James  of 
Douglas.' 

'It  is  the  fate  to  which  I  am  perhaps  doomed,'  replied 
Sir  John  de  Walton;  'but  never  will  I  voluntarily  em- 
brace it,  and  never  shall  it  be  said  that  my  own  tongue, 
saving  in  the  last  extremity,  pronounced  upon  me  the 
fatal  sentence  to  sink  the  point  of  my  own  sword.  Pem- 
broke is  upon  the  march  with  his  whole  army  to  rescue 
the  garrison  of  Douglas.  I  hear  the  tramp  of  his  horse's 
feet  even  now;  and  I  will  maintain  my  ground  while  I 
am  within  reach  of  support;  nor  do  I  fear  that  the  breath 
which  now  begins  to  fail  will  not  last  long  enough  to 
uphold  the  struggle  till  the  arrival  of  the  expected  suc- 
cour. Come  on,  then,  and  treat  me  not  as  a  child,  but  as 

283 


WAVERLEY   NOVELS 

one  who,  whether  I  stand  or  fall,  fears  not  to  encounter 
the  utmost  force  of  my  knightly  antagonist.' 

'So  be  it,  then,'  said  Douglas,  a  darksome  hue,  like 
the  lurid  colour  of  the  thunder-cloud,  changing  his  brow 
as  he  spoke,  intimating  that  he  meditated  a  speedy  end 
to  the  contest,  when,  just  as  the  noise  of  horses'  feet 
drew  nigh,  a  Welsh  knight,  known  as  such  by  the  dimin- 
utive size  of  his  steed,  his  naked  limbs,  and  his  bloody 
spear,  called  out  loudly  to  the  combatants  to  hold  their 
hands. 

'Is  Pembroke  near?'  said  De  Walton. 

*No  nearer  than  Loudon  Hill,'  said  the  Prestantin; 
*but  I  bring  his  commands  to  John  de  Walton.' 

*I  stand  ready  to  obey  them  through  every  danger,' 
answered  the  knight. 

*Woe  is  me,'  said  the  Welshman,  'that  my  mouth 
should  bring  to  the  ears  of  so  brave  a  man  tidings  so 
unwelcome!  The  Earl  of  Pembroke  yesterday  received 
information  that  the  Castle  of  Douglas  was  attacked  by 
the  son  of  the  deceased  earl  and  the  whole  inhabitants  of 
the  district.  Pembroke,  on  hearing  this,  resolved  to 
march  to  your  support,  noble  knight,  with  all  the  forces 
he  had  at  his  disposal.  He  did  so,  and  accordingly  enter- 
tained every  assurance  of  relieving  the  castle,  when 
unexpectedly  he  met,  on  Loudon  Hill,  a  body  of  men  of 
no  very  inferior  force  to  his  own,  and  having  at  their 
head  that  famous  Bruce  whom  the  Scottish  rebels 
acknowledge  as  their  king.  He  marched  instantly  to  the 
attack,  swearing  he  would  not  even  draw  a  comb  through 
his  grey  beard  until  he  had  rid  England  of  this  recurring 
plague.  But  the  fate  of  war  was  against  us.' 

He  stopt  here  for  lack  of  breath. 
284 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

*I  thought  so!'  exclaimed  Douglas.  'Robert  Bruce 
will  now  sleep  at  night,  since  he  has  paid  home  Pem- 
broke for  the  slaughter  of  his  friends  and  the  dispersion 
of  his  army  at  Methuen  Wood.  His  men  are,  indeed, 
accustomed  to  meet  with  dangers,  and  to  conquer  them: 
those  who  follow  him  have  been  trained  under  Wallace, 
besides  being  partakers  of  the  perils  of  Bruce  himself. 
It  was  thought  that  the  waves  had  swallowed  them  when 
they  shipped  themselves  from  the  west;  but  know  that 
the  Bruce  was  determined  with  the  present  reviving 
spring  to  awaken  his  pretensions,  and  that  he  retires  not 
from  Scotland  again  while  he  lives,  and  while  a  single 
lord  remains  to  set  his  foot  by  his  sovereign,  in  spite  of 
all  the  power  which  has  been  so  feloniously  employed 
against  him.' 

'It  is  even  too  true,'  said  the  Welshman  Meredith, 
'although  it  is  said  by  a  proud  Scotchman.  The  Earl  of 
Pembroke,  completely  defeated,  is  unable  to  stir  from 
Ayr,  towards  which  he  has  retreated  with  great  loss ;  and 
he  sends  his  instructions  to  Sir  John  de  Walton  to  make 
the  best  terms  he  can  for  the  surrender  of  the  Castle  of 
Douglas,  and  trust  nothing  to  his  support.' 

The  Scottish,  who  heard  this  unexpected  news,  joined 
in  a  shout  so  loud  and  energetic,  that  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  church  seemed  actually  to  rock,  and  threaten 
to  fall  on  the  heads  of  those  who  were  crowded  within 
it. 

The  brow  of  De  Walton  was  overclouded  at  the  news 
of  Pembroke's  defeat,  although  in  some  respects  it 
placed  him  at  liberty  to  take  measures  for  the  safety  of 
the  Lady  of  Berkely.  He  could  not,  however,  claim  the 
same  honourable  terms  which  had  been  offered  to  him 

28s 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

by  Douglas  before  the  news  of  the  battle  of  Loudon  Hill 
had  arrived. 

'Noble  knight,'  he  said,  *it  is  entirely  at  your  pleas- 
ure to  dictate  the  terms  of  surrender  of  your  paternal 
castle;  nor  have  I  a  right  to  claim  from  you  those  condi- 
tions which  a  little  while  since,  your  generosity  put  in 
my  offer.  But  I  submit  to  my  fate;  and  upon  whatever 
terms  you  think  fit  to  grant  me,  I  must  be  content  to 
offer  to  surrender  to  you  the  weapon  of  which  I  now  put 
the  point  in  the  earth,  in  evidence  that  I  will  never  more 
direct  it  against  you  until  a  fair  ransom  shall  place  it 
once  more  at  my  own  disposal.' 

'God  forbid,'  answered  the  noble  James  of  Douglas, 
*  that  I  should  take  such  advantage  of  the  bravest  knight 
out  of  not  a  few  who  have  found  me  work  in  battle!  I 
will  take  example  from  the  knight  of  Fleming,  who  has 
gallantly  bestowed  his  captive  in  guerdon  upon  a  noble 
damsel  here  present;  and  in  like  manner  I  transfer  my 
claim  upon  the  person  of  the  redoubted  knight  of  Wal- 
ton to  the  high  and  noble  Lady  Augusta  Berkely,  who, 
I  hope,  will  not  scorn  to  accept  from  the  Douglas  a  gift 
which  the  chance  of  war  has  thrown  into  his  hands.' 

Sir  John  de  Walton,  on  hearing  this  unexpected  deci- 
sion, looked  up  like  the  traveller  who  discovers  the  beam 
of  the  sun  breaking  through  and  dispersing  the  tempest 
which  has  accompanied  him  for  a  whole  morning.  The 
Lady  of  Berkely  recollected  what  became  her  rank,  and 
showed  her  sense  of  the  Douglas's  chivalry.  Hastily 
wiping  off  the  tears  which  had  unwillingly  flowed  to  her 
eyes,  while  her  lover's  safety  and  her  own  were  resting 
on  the  precarious  issue  of  a  desperate  combat,  she 
assumed  the  look  proper  to  a  heroine  of  that  age,  who 

286 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

did  not  feel  averse  to  accept  the  importance  which  was 
conceded  to  her  by  the  general  voice  of  the  chivalry  of  the 
period.  Stepping  forward,  bearing  her  person  gracefully, 
yet  modestly,  in  the  attitude  of  a  lady  accustomed  to  be 
looked  to  in  difficulties  like  the  present,  she  addressed 
the  audience  in  a  tone  which  might  not  have  misbecome 
the  Goddess  of  Battle  dispersing  her  influence  at  the 
close  of  a  field  covered  with  the  dead  and  the  dying. 

'The  noble  Douglas,'  she  said,  'shall  not  pass  without 
a  prize  from  the  field  which  he  has  so  nobly  won.  This 
rich  string  of  brilliants,  which  my  ancestor  won  from  the 
Sultan  of  Trebizond,  itself  a  prize  of  battle,  will  be  hon- 
oured by  sustaining,  under  the  Douglas's  armour,  a  lock 
of  hair  of  the  fortunate  lady  whom  the  victorious  lord 
has  adopted  for  his  guide  in  chivalry;  and  if  the  Douglas, 
till  he  shall  adorn  it  with  that  lock,  will  permit  the  hon- 
oured lock  of  hair  which  it  now  bears  to  retain  its  sta- 
tion, she  on  whose  head  it  grew  will  hold  it  as  a  signal  that 
poor  Augusta  de  Berkely  is  pardoned  for  having  gaged 
any  mortal  man  in  strife  with  the  knight  of  Douglas.' 

'  Woman's  love,'  replied  the  Douglas, '  shall  not  divorce 
this  locket  from  my  bosom,  which  I  will  keep  till  the  last 
day  of  my  life,  as  emblematic  of  female  worth  and  female 
virtue.  And,  not  to  encroach  upon  the  valued  and  hon- 
oured province  of  Sir  John  de  Walton,  be  it  known  to  all 
men,  that  whoever  shall  say  that  the  Lady  Augusta  of 
Berkely  has,  in  this  entangled  matter,  acted  otherwise 
than  becomes  the  noblest  of  her  sex,  he  will  do  well  to  be 
ready  to  maintain  such  a  proposition  with  his  lance 
against  James  of  Douglas,  in  a  fair  field.' 

This  speech  was  heard  with  approbation  on  all  sides; 
and  the  news  brought  by  Meredith  of  the  defeat  of  the 

287 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

Earl  of  Pembroke,  and  his  subsequent  retreat,  reconciled 
the  fiercest  of  the  English  soldiers  to  the  surrender  of 
Douglas  Castle.  The  necessary  conditions  were  speedily 
agreed  on,  which  put  the  Scottish  in  possession  of  this 
stronghold,  together  with  the  stores,  both  arms  and 
ammunition,  of  every  kind  which  it  contained.  The 
garrison  had  it  to  boast,  that  they  obtained  a  free  pas- 
sage, with  their  horses  and  arms,  to  return  by  the  short- 
est and  safest  route  to  the  marches  of  England,  without 
either  suffering  or  inflicting  damage. 

Margaret  of  Hautlieu  was  not  behind  in  acting  a  gen- 
erous part :  the  gallant  knight  of  Valence  was  allowed  to 
accompany  his  friend  De  Walton  and  the  Lady  Augusta 
to  England,  and  without  ransom. 

The  venerable  prelate  of  Glasgow,  seeing  what  ap- 
peared at  one  time  likely  to  end  in  a  general  conflict 
terminate  so  auspiciously  for  his  country,  contented  him- 
self with  bestowing  his  blessing  on  the  assembled  multi- 
tude, and  retiring  with  those  who  came  to  assist  in  the 
service  of  the  day. 

This  surrender  of  Douglas  Castle  upon  the  Palm  Sun- 
day of  19th  March  1306-7  was  the  beginning  of  a  career 
of  conquest  which  was  uninterrupted,  in  which  the 
greater  part  of  the  strength  and  fortresses  of  Scotland 
were  yielded  to  those  who  asserted  the  liberty  of  their 
country,  until  the  crowning  mercy  was  gained  in  the 
celebrated  field  of  Bannockburn,  where  the  English  sus- 
tained a  defeat  more  disastrous  than  is  mentioned  upon 
any  other  occasion  in  their  annals. 

Little  need  be  said  of  the  fate  of  the  persons  of  this 
story.  King  Edward  was  greatly  enraged  at  Sir  John  de 
Walton  for  having  surrendered  the  Castle  of  Douglas, 

288 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

securing  at  the  same  time  his  own  object,  the  envied 
hand  of  the  heiress  of  Berkely.  The  knights  to  whom  he 
referred  the  matter  as  a  subject  of  inquiry  gave  it  never- 
theless as  their  opinion  that  De  Walton  was  void  of  ail 
censure,  having  discharged  his  duty  in  its  fullest  extent, 
till  the  commands  of  his  superior  officer  obliged  him  to 
surrender  the  Dangerous  Castle. 

A  singular  renewal  of  intercourse  took  place,  many 
months  afterwards,  between  Margaret  of  Hautlieu  and 
her  lover,  Sir  Malcolm  Fleming.  The  use  which  the  lady 
made  of  her  freedom,  and  of  the  doom  of  the  Scottish 
Parliament,  which  put  her  in  possession  of  her  father's 
inheritance,  was  to  follow  her  adventurous  spirit 
through  dangers  not  usually  encountered  by  those  of  her 
sex;  and  the  Lady  of  Hautlieu  was  not  only  a  daring  fol- 
lower of  the  chase,  but  it  was  said  that  she  was  even  not 
daunted  in  the  battlefield.  She  remained  faithful  to  the 
poHtical  principles  which  she  had  adopted  at  an  early 
period;  and  it  seemed  as  if  she  had  formed  the  gallant 
resolution  of  shaking  the  god  Cupid  from  her  horse's 
mane,  if  not  treading  him  beneath  her  horse's  feet. 

The  Fleming,  although  he  had  vanished  from  the 
neighbourhood  of  the  counties  of  Lanark  and  Ayr, 
made  an  attempt  to  state  his  apology  to  the  Lady  de 
Hautlieu  herself,  who  returned  his  letter  unopened,  and 
remained  to  all  appearance  resolved  never  again  to  enter 
upon  the  topic  of  their  original  engagement.  It  chanced, 
however,  at  a  later  period  of  the  war  with  England,  while 
Fleming  was  one  night  travelling  upon  the  Border,  after 
the  ordinary  fashion  of  one  who  sought  adventures,  a 
waiting-maid,  equipped  in  a  fantastic  habit,  asked  the 
protection  of  his  arm  in  the  name  of  her  lady,  who,  late 

45  289 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


in  the  evening,  had  been  made  captive^  she  said,  by  cer- 
tain ill-disposed  caitiffs,  who  were  carrying  her  by  force 
through  the  forest.  The  Fleming's  lance  was,  of  course, 
in  its  rest,  and  woe  betide  the  faitour  whose  lot  it  was  to 
encounter  its  thrust:  the  first  fell,  incapable  of  further 
combat,  and  another  of  the  felons  encountered  the  same 
fate  with  Httle  more  resistance.  The  lady,  released 
from  the  discourteous  cord  which  restrained  her  liberty, 
did  not  hesitate  to  join  company  with  the  brave  knight 
by  whom  she  had  been  rescued;  and  although  the  dark- 
ness did  not  permit  her  to  recognize  her  old  lover  in  her 
liberator,  yet  she  could  not  but  lend  a  willing  ear  to  the 
conversation  with  which  he  entertained  her,  as  they  pro- 
ceeded on  the  way.  He  spoke  of  the  fallen  caitiffs  as 
being  Englishmen,  who  found  a  pleasure  in  exercising 
oppression  and  barbarities  upon  the  wandering  damsels 
of  Scotland,  and  whose  cause,  therefore,  the  champions 
of  that  country  were  bound  to  avenge  while  the  blood 
throbbed  in  their  veins.  He  spoke  of  the  injustice  of  the 
national  quarrel  which  had  afforded  a  pretence  for  such 
deliberate  oppression;  and  the  lady,  who  herself  had 
suffered  so  much  by  the  interference  of  the  English  in 
the  affairs  of  Scotland,  readily  acquiesced  in  the  senti- 
ments which  he  expressed  on  a  subject  which  she  had  so 
much  reason  for  regarding  as  an  afflicting  one.  Her 
answer  was  given  in  the  spirit  of  a  person  who  would  not 
hesitate,  if  the  times  should  call  for  such  an  example,  to 
defend  even  with  her  hand  the  rights  which  she  asserted 
with  her  tongue. 

Pleased  with  the  sentiments  which  she  expressed,  and 
recognizing  in  her  voice  that  secret  charm  which,  once  im- 
pressed upon  the  human  heart,  is  rarely  wrought  out  of 

290 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

the  remembrance  by  a  long  train  of  subsequent  events, 
he  almost  persuaded  himself  that  the  tones  were  famil- 
iar to  him,  and  had  at  one  time  formed  the  key  to  his 
innermost  affections.  In  proceeding  on  their  Journey,  the 
knight's  troubled  state  of  mind  was  augmented  instead 
of  being  diminished.  The  scenes  of  his  earliest  youth 
were  recalled  by  circumstances  so  slight  as  would  in  or- 
dinary cases  have  produced  no  effect  whatsoever;  the 
sentiments  appeared  similar  to  those  which  his  life  had 
been  devoted  to  enforce,  and  he  half  persuaded  himself 
that  the  dawn  of  day  was  to  be  to  him  the  beginning  of  a 
fortune  equally  singular  and  extraordinary. 

In  the  midst  of  this  anxiety,  Sir  Malcolm  Fleming  had 
no  anticipation  that  the  lady  whom  he  had  heretofore 
rejected  was  again  thrown  into  his  path,  after  years  of 
absence;  still  less,  when  daylight  gave  him  a  partial  view 
of  his  fair  companion's  countenance,  was  he  prepared  to 
believe  that  he  was  once  again  to  term  himself  the  cham- 
pion of  Margaret  de  Hautlieu,  but  it  was  so.  The  lady, 
on  that  direful  morning  when  she  retired  from  the  church 
of  Douglas,  had  not  resolved  (indeed,  what  lady  ever 
did?)  to  renounce,  without  some  struggle,  the  beauties 
which  she  had  once  possessed.  A  long  process  of  time, 
employed  under  skilful  hands,  had  succeeded  in  obliter- 
ating the  scars  which  remained  as  the  marks  of  her  fall. 
These  were  now  considerably  effaced,  and  the  lost  organ 
of  sight  no  longer  appeared  so  great  a  blemish,  concealed 
as  it  was  by  a  black  ribbon  and  the  arts  of  the  tirewoman, 
who  made  it  her  business  to  shadow  it  over  by  a  lock  ol 
hair.  In  a  word,  he  saw  the  same  Margaret  de  Hautlieu, 
with  no  very  different  style  of  expression  from  that  which 
her  face,  partaking  of  the  high  and  passionate  character 

291 


WAVERLEY  NOVELS 

of  her  soul,  had  always  presented.  It  seemed  to  both, 
therefore,  that  their  fate,  by  bringing  them  together 
after  a  separation  which  appeared  so  decisive,  had  inti- 
mated its  fiat  that  their  fortunes  were  inseparable  from 
each  other.  By  the  time  that  the  summer  sun  had 
climbed  high  in  the  heavens,  the  two  travellers  rode  apart 
from  their  retinue,  conversing  together  with  an  eager- 
ness which  marked  the  important  matters  in  discussion 
between  them ;  and  in  a  short  time  it  was  made  generally 
known  through  Scotland  that  Sir  Malcolm  Fleming  and 
the  Lady  Margaret  de  Hautheu  were  to  be  united  at  the 
court  of  the  good  King  Robert,  and  the  husband  invested 
with  the  honours  of  Biggar  and  Cumbernauld,  an  earl- 
dom so  long  known  in  the  family  of  Fleming. 


The  gentle  reader  is  acquainted  that  these  are,  in  all 
probabiHty,  the  last  tales  which  it  will  be  the  lot  of  the 
Author  to  submit  to  the  public.  He  is  now  on  the  eve  of 
visiting  foreign  parts :  a  ship  of  war  is  commissioned  by 
its  royal  master  to  carry  the  Author  of  '  Waverley '  to 
cUmates  in  which  he  may  possibly  obtain  such  a  restora- 
tion of  health  as  may  serve  him  to  spin  his  thread  to  an 
end  in  his  own  country.  Had  he  continued  to  prosecute 
his  usual  literary  labours,  it  seems  indeed  probable  that, 
at  the  term  of  years  he  has  already  attained,  the  bowl,  to 
use  the  pathetic  language  of  scripture,  would  have  been 
broken  at  the  fountain;  and  little  can  one  who  has  en- 
joyed on  the  whole  an  uncommon  share  of  the  most  ines- 
timable of  worldly  blessings  be  entitled  to  complain  that 
life,  advancing  to  its  period,  should  be  attended  with  its 
usual  proportions  of  shadows  and  storms.  They  have 

292 


CASTLE  DANGEROUS 

affected  him  at  least  in  no  more  painful  manner  than  is 
inseparable  from  the  discharge  of  this  part  of  the  debt 
of  humanity.  Of  those  whose  relation  to  him  in  the 
ranks  of  life  might  have  ensured  him  their  sympathy 
under  indisposition,  many  are  now  no  more;  and  those 
who  may  yet  follow  in  his  wake  are  entitled  to  expect,  in 
bearing  inevitable  evils,  an  example  of  firmness  and 
patience,  more  especially  on  the  part  of  one  who  has 
enjoyed  no  small  good  fortune  during  the  course  of  his 
pilgrimage. 

The  public  have  claims  on  his  gratitude  for  which  the 
Author  of  '  Waverley'  has  no  adequate  means  of  expres- 
sion; but  he  may  be  permitted  to  hope  that  the  powers 
of  his  mind,  such  as  they  are,  may  not  have  a  different 
date  from  those  of  his  body;  and  that  he  may  again  meet 
his  patronizing  friends,  if  not  exactly  in  his  old  fashion 
of  literature,  at  least  in  some  branch  which  may  not  call 
forth  the  remark  that  — 

Superfluous  lags  the  veteran  on  the  stage. 
Abbotsford,  September,  1831. 


END  OF  CASTLE   DANGEROUS 


APPENDICES,   NOTES,  AND 
GLOSSARY 


APPENDICES  TO   INTRODUCTION 


No.  I 

Extracts  from  The  History  of  the  Houses  of  Douglas  and  Angus. 
By  Master  David  Hume  of  Godscroft.  Fol.  Edit. 

And  here  indeed  the  course  of  the  King's  misfortunes  begins  to 
make  some  halt  and  stay  by  thus  much  prosperous  successe  in  his 
own  person,  but  more  in  the  person  of  Sir  James,  by  the  recon- 
quests  of  his  owne  castles  and  countries.  From  hence  he  went  into 
Douglasdale,  where,  by  the  means  of  his  father's  old  servant, 
Thomas  Dickson,  he  took  in  the  Castle  of  Douglas,  and  not  being 
able  to  keep  it,  he  caused  burn  it,  contenting  himself  with  this, 
that  his  enemies  had  one  strength  fewer  in  that  countrey  than 
before.  The  manner  of  his  taking  of  it  is  said  to  have  beene  thus: 
—  Sir  James,  taking  onely  with  him  two  of  his  servants,  went  to 
Thomas  Dickson,  of  whom  he  was  received  with  tears,  after  he 
had  revealed  himselfe  to  him,  for  the  good  old  man  knew  him  not 
at  first,  being  in  meane  and  homely  apparell.  There  he  kept  him 
secretly  in  a  quiet  chamber,  and  brought  unto  him  such  as  had 
beene  trusty  servants  to  his  father,  not  all  at  once,  but  apart  by 
one  and  one,  for  feare  of  discoverie.  Their  advice  was,  that  on 
Palmsunday,  when  the  English  would  come  forth  to  the  church, 
and  his  partners  were  conveened,  that  then  he  should  give  the 
word,  and  cry  the  Douglas  slogan,  and  presently  set  upon  them  that 
should  happen  to  be  there,  who  being  dispatched,  the  castle  might 
be  taken  easily.  This  being  concluded,  and  they  come,  so  soon  as 
the  English  were  entred  into  the  church  with  palms  in  their  hands 
(according  to  the  costume  of  that  day) .  little  suspecting  or  fear- 
ing any  such  thing,  Sir  James,  according  to  their  appointment, 
cryed  too  soone  (a  Douglas,  a  Douglas!),  which  being  heard  in  the 
church  (this  was  St.  Bride's  church  of  Douglas),  Thomas  Dickson, 
supposing  he  had  beene  hard  at  hand,  drew  out  his  sword,  and  ran 
upon  them,  having  none  to  second  him  but  another  man,  so  that, 
oppressed  by  the  number  of  his  enemies,  he  was  beaten  downe  and 
slaine.  In  the  meanetime,  Sir  James  being  come,  the  English  that 

297 


APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION 

were  in  the  chancel  kept  off  the  Scots,  and,  having  the  advantage  of 
the  strait  and  narrow  entrie,  defended  themselves  manfully.  But 
Sir  James  encouraging  his  men,  not  so  much  by  words  as  by  deeds 
and  good  example,  and  having  slain  the  boldest  resisters,  pre- 
vailed at  last,  and,  entring  the  place,  slew  some  twenty-six  of 
their  number,  and  tooke  the  rest,  about  ten  or  twelve  persons, 
intending  by  them  to  get  the  castle  upon  composition,  or  to  enter 
with  them  when  the  gates  should  be  opened  to  let  them  in;  but  it 
needed  not,  for  they  of  the  castle  were  so  secure,  that  there  was 
none  left  to  keepe  it  save  the  porter  and  the  cooke,  who,  knowing 
nothing  of  what  had  hapned  at  the  church,  which  stood  a  large 
quarter  of  a  mile  from  thence,  had  left  the  gate  wide  open,  the 
porter  standing  without,  and  the  cooke  dressing  the  dinner  within. 
They  entred  without  resistance,  and  meat  being  ready,  and  the 
cloth  laid,  they  shut  the  gates,  and  tooke  their  refection  at  good 
leisure. 

Now  that  he  had  gotten  the  castle  into  his  hands,  considering 
with  himselfe  (as  he  was  a  man  no  lesse  advised  than  valiant)  that 
it  was  hard  for  him  to  keep  it,  the  English  being  as  yet  the  stronger 
in  that  countrey,  who  if  they  should  besiege  him,  he  knew  of  no 
reliefe,  he  thought  better  to  carry  away  such  things  as  be  most 
easily  transported,  gold,  silver,  and  apparell,  with  ammunition  and 
armour,  whereof  he  had  greatest  use  and  need,  and  to  destroy  the 
rest  of  the  provision,  together  with  the  castle  itselfe,  then  to  dimin- 
ish the  number  of  his  followers  for  a  garrison  there  where  it  could  do 
no  good.  And  so  he  caused  carrie  the  meale  and  malt,  and  other 
comes  and  graine,  into  the  cellar,  and  layd  all  together  in  one 
heape;  then  he  took  the  prisoners  and  slew  them,  to  revenge  the 
death  of  his  trustie  and  valiant  servant,  Thomas  Dickson,  ming- 
ling the  victuals  with  their  bloud,  and  burying  their  carcasses  in 
the  heap  of  corne;  after  that  he  struck  out  the  heads  of  the  barrels 
and  puncheons,  and  let  the  drink  runne  through  all;  and  then  he 
cast  the  carkasses  of  dead  horses  and  other  carrion  amongst  it, 
throwing  the  salt  above  all,  so  to  make  altogether  unusefull  to  the 
enemie;  and  this  cellar  is  called  yet  the  Douglas  Lairder.  Last  of 
all,  he  set  the  house  on  fire,  and  burnt  all  the  timber,  and  what 
else  the  fire  could  overcome,  leaving  nothing  but  the  scorched 
walls  behind  him.  And  this  seems  to  be  the  first  taking  of  the 
Castle  of  Douglas,  for  it  is  supposed  that  he  took  it  twice.  For  this 
service,  and  others  done  to  Lord  William  his  father,  Sir  James 
gave  unto  Thomas  Dickson  the  lands  of  Hisleside,  which  hath 
beene  given  him  before  the  castle  was  taken  as  an  encouragement 

298 


APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION 

to  whet  him  on,  and  not  after,  for  he  was  slaine  in  the  church; 
which  was  both  liberally  and  wisely  done  of  him,  thus  to  hearten 
and  draw  men  to  his  service  by  such  a  noble  beginning.  The  castle 
being  burnt,  Sir  James  retired,  and  parting  his  men  into  divers 
companies,  so  as  they  might  be  most  secret,  he  caused  cure  such 
as  were  wounded  in  the  fight,  and  he  himselfe  kept  as  close  as  he 
could,  waiting  ever  for  an  occasion  to  enterprise  something  against 
the  enemie.  So  soone  as  he  was  gone,  the  Lord  Clifford  being  ad- 
vertised of  what  had  happened,  came  himselfe  in  person  to  Doug- 
las, and  caused  re-edifie  and  repair  the  castle  in  a  very  short  time, 
unto  which  he  also  added  a  tower,  which  is  yet  called  Harries 
Tower  from  him,  and  so  returned  into  England,  leaving  one 
Thurswall  to  be  captain  thereof.    Pp.  26-28. 

He  (Sir  James  Douglas),  getting  him  into  Douglasdale,  did  use 
this  stratagem  against  Thurswall,  Captaine  of  the  Castle,  under 
the  said  Lord  Clifford.  Hee  caused  some  of  his  folk  drive  away 
the  cattell  that  fed  neare  unto  the  castle,  and  when  the  captaine 
of  the  garrison  followed  to  rescue,  gave  orders  to  his  men  to  leave 
them  and  to  flee  away.  Thus  he  did  often  to  make  the  captaine 
slight  such  frayes,  and  to  make  him  secure,  that  he  might  not  sus- 
pect any  further  end  to  be  on  it ;  which  when  he  had  wrought  suffi- 
ciently (as  he  thought),  he  laid  some  men  in  ambuscado,  and  sent 
others  away  to  drive  such  beasts  as  they  should  finde  in  the  view 
of  the  castle,  as  if  they  had  been  theeves  and  robbers,  as  they 
had  done  often  before.  The  captaine  hearing  of  it,  and  supposing 
there  was  no  greater  danger  now  than  had  beene  before,  issued 
forth  of  the  castle,  and  followed  after  them  with  such  haste  that 
his  men  (running  who  should  be  first)  were  disordered  and  out  of 
their  ranks.  The  drivers  also  fled  as  fast  as  they  could  till  they  had 
drawne  the  captaine  a  little  way  beyond  the  place  of  ambuscado, 
which  when  they  perceived,  rising  quickly  out  of  their  covert, 
they  set  fiercely  upon  him  and  his  companie,  and  so  slew  himselfe 
and  chased  his  men  back  to  the  castle,  some  of  whom  were  over- 
taken and  slaine,  others  got  into  the  castle  and  so  were  saved.  Sir 
James,  not  being  able  to  force  the  house,  took  what  bootie  he 
could  get  without  in  the  fields,  and  so  departed.  By  this  means, 
and  such  other  exploits,  he  so  affrighted  the  enemie,  that  it  was 
counted  a  matter  of  such  great  jeopardie  to  keepe  this  castle,  that 
it  began  to  be  called  the  adventurous  (or  hazzardous)  Castle  of 
Douglas.  Whereupon  Sir  John  Walton  being  in  suit  of  an  English 
lady,  she  wrote  to  him  that  when  he  had  kept  the  adventurous 
Castle  of  Douglas  seven  yeares,  then  he  might  think  himselfe 

299 


APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION 

worthy  to  be  a  sutor  to  her.  Upon  this  occasion,  Walton  tooke 
upon  him  the  keeping  of  it,  and  succeeded  to  Thurswall;  but  he 
ran  the  same  fortune  with  the  rest  that  were  before  him. 

For,  Sir  James  having  first  dressed  an  ambuscado  near  unto  the 
place,  he  made  fourteen  of  his  men  take  so  many  sacks,  and  fil 
them  with  grasse,  as  though  it  had  been  corn,  which  they  carried 
in  the  way  toward  Lanark,  the  chief  market-town  in  that  county; 
so  hoping  to  draw  forth  the  captain  by  that  bait,  and  either  to 
take  him  or  the  castle,  or  both. 

Neither  was  this  expectation  frustrate,  for  the  captain  did  bite, 
and  came  forth  to  have  taken  this  victuall  (as  he  supposed).  But 
ere  he  could  reach  these  carriers,  Sir  James,  with  his  company,  had 
gotten  between  the  castle  and  him;  and  these  disguised  carriers, 
seeing  the  captain  following  after  them,  did  quickly  cast  off  their 
upper  garments,  wherein  they  had  masked  themselves,  and  throw- 
ing off  their  sacks,  mounted  themselves  on  horseback,  and  met 
the  captain  with  a  sharp  encounter,  he  being  so  much  the  more 
amazed  that  it  was  unlocked  for;  wherefore,  when  he  saw  these 
carriers  metamorphosed  into  warriours,  and  ready  to  assault  him, 
fearing  that  which  was,  that  there  was  some  train  laid  for  them, 
he  turned  about  to  have  retired  into  the  castle;  but  there  also  hee 
met  with  his  enemies;  between  which  two  companies  he  and  his 
followers  were  slain,  so  that  none  escaped;  the  captain  afterwards 
being  searched,  they  found  (as  it  is  reported)  his  mistress's  letters 
about  him.  Then  hee  went  and  tooke  in  the  castle,  but  it  is  uncer- 
tain (say  our  writers)  whether  by  force  or  composition;  but  it 
seems  that  the  Constable,  and  those  that  were  ■wathin,  have 
yeelded  it  up  without  force;  in  regard  that  hee  used  them  so 
gently,  which  he  would  not  have  done  if  he  had  taken  it  at  utter- 
ance. For  he  sent  them  all  safe  home  to  the  Lord  Clifford,  and 
gave  them  also  provision  and  mony  for  their  entertainment  by  the 
way.  The  castle,  which  he  had  burnt  onely  before,  now  he  razeth, 
and  casts  down  the  walls  thereof  to  the  ground.  By  these  and  the 
like  proceedings,  within  a  short  while  he  freed  Douglasdale,  At- 
trick  Forrest,  and  Jedward  Forrest  of  the  English  garrisons  and 
subjection.  —  Ibid.,  p.  29. 


300 


No.  II 

Extracts  from  The  Bruce  —  Liber  Compositus  per  Magistrum  Jo- 
hannem  Barber,  Archidiaconnum  Abyrdonensem,  de  Gestis,  Bel- 
lis,  et  Virtuiibus,  Domini  Roberti  Brwyss,  Regis  Scocie  Illustris- 
simi,  et  de  Conquestu  Regni  Scocie  per  eundem,  et  de  Domino 
Jacobo  de  Douglas.  Edited  by  John  Jamieson,  D.D.,  F.R.S.E., 
etc.  etc.   Edinburgh,  1820. 


Now  takis  James  his  wiage 
Towart  Dowglas,  his  heretage, 
With  twa  yemen,  for  owtyn,  ma; 
That  wes  a  symple  stuff  to  ta, 
A  land  or  a  castell  to  wyn. 
The  quhethir  he  yamyt  to  begyn 
Till  bring  purposs  till  ending; 
For  gud  help  is  in  gud  begynnyng, 
For  gud  begynnyng,  and  hardy, 
GyS  it  be  folowit  wittily, 
May  ger  oftsyss  unlikly  thing 
Cum  to  full  conabill  ending. 
Swa  did  it  here:  but  he  wes  wyss 
And  saw  he  mycht,  on  nakyn  wyss, 
Werray  his  fa  with  ewyn  mycht; 
Tharfor  he  thocht  to  wyrk  with  slycht. 
And  in  Dowglas  daile,  his  countre, 
Upon  an  ewynnyng  entryt  he. 
And  than  a  man  wonnyt  tharby, 
That  was  off  freyndis  weill  mychty, 
And  ryche  of  moble,  and  off  cateill, 
And  had  bene  till  his  fadyr  ley II; 
And  till  him  selff,  in  his  yowthed, 
He  haid  done  mony  a  thankfull  deid. 
Thorn  Dicson  wes  his  name  perfay. 
Till  him  he  send;  and  gan  him  pray. 
That  he  wald  cum  all  anerly 
For  to  spek  with  him  priuely. 
And  he  but  daunger  till  him  gais: 
Bot  fra  he  tauld  him  quhat  he  wais, 
He  gret  for  joy,  and  for  pite; 
And  him  rycht  till  his  houss  had  he; 
Quhar  in  a  chambre  priuely 
He  held  him,  and  his  cumpany, 
That  nane  had  off  him  persawing. 
Off  mete,  and  drynk,  and  othyr  thing, 
That  mycht  thaim  eyss,  thai  had  plent6 
Sa  wrocht  he  thorow  suteltfi. 
That  all  the  lele  men  off  that  land, 
That  with  his  fadyr  war  duelland, 
This  gud  man  gert  cum,  ane  and  ane. 
And  mak  him  manrent  euir  ilkane; 
And  he  him  selff  fyrst  homage  maid. 
Dowglas  in  hart  gret  glaidschip  haid. 
That  the  gud  men  off  his  cuntr€ 


Wald  swagate  till  him  bundyn  be. 
He  speryt  the  conwyne  off  the  land, 
And  quha  the  castell  had  in  hand. 
And  thai  him  tauld  all  halily; 
And  syne  amang  them  priuely 
Thai  ordanyt,  that  he  still  suld  be 
In  hiddillis,  and  in  priwete, 
Till  Palme  Sonday,  that  wes  ner  hand, 
The  thrid  day  eftyr  folowand. 
For  than  the  folk  off  that  countrfi 
Assemblyt  at  the  kyrk  wald  be; 
And  thai,  that  in  the  castell  wet, 
Wald  als  be  thar,  thar  palmys  to  her. 
As  folk  that  had  na  dreid  off  ill; 
For  thai  thoucht  all  wes  at  thair  will. 
Than  suld  he  cum  with  his  twa  men. 
Bot,  for  that  men  suld  nocht  him  ken. 
He  suld  ane  mantill  haiff  auld  and  bar. 
And  a  flaill,  as  he  a  thresscher  war. 
Wndyr  the  mantill  nocht  for  thi 
He  suld  be  armyt  priuely. 
And  quhen  the  men  off  his  countr£. 
That  suld  all  boune  befor  him  be. 
His  ensenye  mycht  her  hym  cry. 
Then  suld  thai,  full  enforcely, 
Rycht  ymyddys  the  kyrk  assaill 
The  Ingliss  men  with  hard  bataill, 
Swa  that  nane  mycht  eschap  tham  fra; 
For  thar  throwch  trowyt  thai  to  ta 
The  castell,  that  besid  wes  ner. 
And  quhen  this,  that  I  tell  you  her, 
Wes  diuisyt,  and  wndertane, 
Ilkane  till  his  howss  hame  is  gane; 
And  held  this  spek  in  priuet6. 
Till  the  day  off  thar  assembly. 

The  folk  upon  the  Sonounday 
Held  to  Saynct  Bridis  kyrk  thair  way; 
And  tha  that  in  the  castell  war 
Ischyt  owt,  bath  les  and  mar. 
And  went  thair  palmys  for  to  ber; 
Owtane  a  cuk  and  a  porter. 
James  off  Dowglas  off  thair  cummyng, 
And  quhat  thai  war,  had  witting; 
And  sped  him  till  the  kyrk  is  by. 


301 


JTS  ns!>!?5i'^r.a  f»T!^Tr  rnifTJ^r  flDDI 


APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION 


Bot  or  he  come,  too  hastily 
Ane  o£f  his  criyt,  'Dowglas!  Dowglas!' 
Thomas  Dikson,  that  nerrest  was 
Till  thaim  that  war  off  the  castell, 
That  war  all  innouth  the  chancell, 
Quhen  he  'Dowglas!'  swa  hey  herd  cry, 
Drew  owt  his  swerd;  and  fellely 
Ruschyt  atnang  thaim  to  and  fra. 
Bot  ane  or  twa,  for  owtyn  ma, 
Than  in  hy  war  left  lyand, 
Quhill  Dowglas  come  rycht  at  band. 
And  then  enforcyt  on  thaim  the  cry. 
Bot  thai  the  chansell  sturdely 
Held,  and  thaim  defendyt  wele. 
Till  off  thair  men  war  slayne  sumdel. 
Bot  the  Dowglace  sa  weill  him  bar. 
That  all  the  men,  that  with  him  war, 
Had  contort  off  his  wele  doyng; 
And  he  him  sparyt  nakyn  thing, 
Bot  prowyt  swa  his  force  in  fycht. 
That  throw  his  worschip  and  his  mycht 
His  men  sa  keynly  helpyt  than, 
That  thai  the  chansell  on  thaim  wan. 
Than  dang  thai  on  swa  hardyly, 
That  in  schort  tyme  men  mycht  se  ly 
The  twa  part  dede,  or  then  deand. 
The  lave  war  sesyt  sone  in  hand, 
Swa  that  oS  thretty  levyt  nane. 
That  thai  ne  war  slayne  ilkan,  or  tane. 

James  off  Dowglas.quhen  this  wes  done, 
The  presoneris  has  he  tane  alsone; 
And,  with  thaim  oS  his  cumpany, 
Towart  the  castell  went  in  hy, 
Or  noyiss  or  cry  suld  ryss. 
And  for  he  wald  thaim  sone  suppriss. 
That  lewyt  in  the  castell  war, 
That  war  but  twa  for  owtyn  mar, 
Fyve  men  or  sex  befor  send  he, 
That  fand  all  opyn  the  entre; 
And  entryt,  and  the  porter  tuk 
Rycht  at  the  gate,  and  syne  the  cuk. 
With  that  Dowglas  come  to  the  gat. 
And  entryt  in  for  owtyn  debate; 
And  fand  the  mete  all  redy  grathit, 
With  burdys  set,  and  clathis  layit. 
The  gaitis  then  he  gert  sper. 
And  sat,  and  eyt  all  at  layser. 
Syne  all  the  gudis  turssyt  thai 
That  thaim  thocht  thai  mycht  haiff  away; 
And  namly  wapnys,  and  armyng, 
Siluer,  and  tresour,  and  clethyng. 
Wyctallis,  that  mycht  nocht  tursyt  be, 
On  this  maner  destroyit  he. 
All  the  wictalis,  owtane  salt, 
Als  quheyt,  and  flour,  and  meill,  and  malt 
In  the  wyne  sellar  gert  he  bring; 
And  samyn  on  the  flur  all  flyng, 
And  the  presoners  that  he  had  tane 


Rycht  thar  in  gert  he  heid  ilkane; 

Syne  off  the  townnys  he  hedis  outstrak: 

A  fould  melle  thar  gane  he  mak. 

For  meile,  and  malt,  and  blud,  and  wyne. 

Ran  all  to  gidder  in  a  mellyne, 

That  was  wnsemly  for  to  se. 

Tharfor  the  men  off  that  countr£ 

For  swa  fele  thar  mellyt  wer, 

Callit  it  the  'Dowglas  Lardner.' 

Syne  tuk  he  salt,  as  Ic  hard  tell, 

And  ded  horss,  and  sordid  the  well; 

And  brynt  all,  owtakyn  stane; 

And  is  forth,  with  his  menye,  gayne 

Till  his  resett;  for  him  thoucht  weill, 

Giff  he  had  haldyn  the  castell, 

It  had  bene  assegyt  raith; 

And  that  him  thoucht  to  mekill  waith. 

For  he  ne  had  hop  off  reskewyng. 

And  it  is  to  peralous  thing 

In  castell  assegyt  to  be, 

Quhar  want  is  off  thir  thingis  thre  — 

Victaiil,  or  men  with  thair  armyng, 

Or  than  gud  hop  off  rescuyng. 

And  for  he  dred  thir  thingis  suld  faile. 

He  chesyt  furthwart  to  trawaill, 

Quhar  he  mycht  at  his  larges  be; 

And  swa  dryve  furth  his  destanfi. 

On  this  wise  wes  the  castell  tan, 
And  slayne  that  war  thain  ilkan. 
The  Dowglas  syne  all  his  menye 
Gert  in  ser  placis  depertyt  be; 
For  men  suld  wyt  quhar  thai  war. 
That  yeid  depertyt  her  and  thar. 
Thaim  that  war  woundyt  gert  he  ly 
In  till  hiddillis,  all  priuely; 
And  gert  gud  leechis  till  thaim  bring 
Quhill  that  thai  war  in  till  heling. 
And  him  selff,  with  a  few  menye, 
Quhile  ane,  quhile  twa,  and  quhil  thre. 
And  wmquhill  all  him  allane, 
In  hiddillis  throw  the  land  is  gane. 
Sandred  he  Inglis  men  his  mycht. 
That  he  durst  nocht  wele  cum  in  sycht. 
For  thai  war  that  tyme  all  weldand 
As  maist  lordis,  our  all  the  land. 

Bot  tythandis,  that  scalis  sone. 
Off  this  deid  that  Dowglas  has  done 
Come  to  the  Cliffurd  his  ere,  in  hy, 
That  for  his  tynsaill  wes  sary; 
And  menyt  his  men  that  thai  had  slayne 
And  syne  has  to  purpos  tane. 
To  big  the  castell  wp  agayne. 
Thar  for,  as  man  of  mekill  mayne, 
He  assemblit  gret  cumpany. 
And  till  Dowglas  he  went  in  hy. 
And  biggyt  wp  the  castell  swyth; 
And  maid  it  rycht  stalwart  and  stytb 


302 


'APPENDICES  TO  INTRODUCTION 


And  put  tharin  wictallis  and  men. 
Ane  ofE  the  Thyrwallys  then 
He  left  behind  him  capitane, 
And  syne  till  Ingland  went  agayne. 

Book  IV,  vv.  255-460. 

BOT  yeit  than  James  of  Dowglas 
In  Dowglas  Daile  trawailland  was; 
Or  ellys  weill  ner  hand  tharby. 
In  hyddillys  sumdeill  priuely. 
For  he  wald  se  his  gouernyng 
That  had  the  castell  in  keping: 
And  gert  mak  mony  juperty, 
To  se  quhethyr  he  wald  ische  biythly. 
And  quhen  he  persawyt  that  he 
Wald  blythly  ische  with  his  menye, 
He  maid  a  gadring  priuely 
Off  thaim  that  war  on  his  party; 
That  war  sa  fele,  that  thai  durst  fycht 
With  Thyrwall,  and  all  the  mycht 
Off  thaim  that  in  the  castill  war. 
He  schupe  him  in  the  nycht  to  far 
To  Sandylandis;  and  thar  ner  by 
He  him  enbuschyt  priuely, 
And  send  a  few  a  trane  to  ma; 
That  sone  in  the  mornyng  gan  ga. 
And  tuk  catell,  that  wes  the  castell  by, 
And  syne  withdrew  thaim  hastily 
Towart  thaim  that  enbuschit  war. 
Than  Thyrwall,  for  owtyn  mar, 
Gert  arme  his  men,  forowtyn  baid; 
And  ischyt  with  all  the  men  he  haid: 


And  folowyt  fast  eftir  the  cry. 
He  wes  array t  at  poynt  cleniy, 
Owtane  [thatj  his  hede  wes  bar. 
Than,  with  the  men  that  with  him  war. 
The  catell  folowit  he  gud  speid, 
Rycht  as  a  man  that  had  na  dreid, 
Till  that  he  gat  off  thaim  a  sycht. 
Than  prekyt  thai  with  all  thar  mycht, 
Folowand  thaim  owt  off  aray; 
And  thai  sped  thaim  fleand,  quhill  thai 
Fer  by  thair  buschement  war  past: 
And  Thyrwall  ay  chassyt  fast. 
And  than  thai  that  enbuschyt  war 
Ischyt  till  him,  bath  les  and  mar. 
And  rayssyt  sudanly  the  cry. 
And  thai  that  saw  sa  sudandly 
That  folk  come  egyrly  prikand 
Rycht  betuix  thaim  and  thair  warand, 
Thai  war  in  to  full  gret  effray. 
And,  for  thai  war  owt  off  aray, 
Sum  off  thaim  fled,  and  sum  abad. 
And  Dowglas,  that  thar  with  him  had 
A  gret  mengye,  full  egrely 
Assaylyt,  and  scalyt  thaim  hastyly: 
And  in  schort  tyme  ourraid  thaim  swa, 
That  weile  nane  eschapyt  thaim  fra. 
Thyrwall,  that  wes  thair  capitane, 
Wes  thar  in  the  bargane  slane. 
And  off  his  men  the  mast  party. 
The  lave  fled  full  eSiaytly. 

Book  V,  vv.  10-60. 


\ 


NOTES 

Note  i,  p.  xii 

The  following  notice  of  Douglas  Castle,  etc.,  is  from  the  De- 
scription of  the  Sheriffdom  of  Lanark,  by  William  Hamilton  of 
Wishaw,  written  in  the  beginning  of  the  last  century,  and  printed 
by  the  Maitland  Club  of  Glasgow  in  1831:  — 

Douglass  parish,  and  baronie  and  lordship,  heth  very  long  apper- 
tained to  the  family  of  Douglass,  and  continued  with  the  Earles  of 
Douglass  untill  their  fatall  forfeiture,  anno  1455;  during  which 
tyme  there  are  many  noble  and  important  actions  recorded  in  his- 
tories performed  by  them,  by  the  lords  and  earls  of  that  great  fam- 
ily. It  was  thereafter  given  to  Douglass  Earl  of  Anguse,  and  con- 
tinued with  them  untill  William  Earle  of  Anguse  was  created 
Marquess  of  Douglass,  anno  1633;  and  is  now  the  principal  seat 
of  the  Marquess  of  Douglass  his  family.  It  is  a  large  baronie  and 
parish,  and  ane  laick  patronage,  and  the  Marquess  is  both  titular 
and  patron.  He  heth  there,  near  to  the  church,  a  very  considerable 
great  house,  called  the  Castle  of  Douglass;  and  near  the  church  is 
a  fyne  village,  called  the  town  of  Douglass,  long  since  erected  in  a 
burgh  of  baronie.  It  heth  ane  handsome  church,  with  many 
ancient  monuments  and  inscriptions  on  the  old  interments  of  the 
earles  of  this  place. 

The  water  of  Douglas  runs  quyte  through  the  whole  length  of 
this  parish,  and  upon  either  side  of  the  water  it  is  called  Douglas- 
dale.  It  toucheth  Clyde  towards  the  north,  and  is  bounded  by 
Lesmahagow  to  the  west,  Kyle  to  the  south-west,  Crawfurd  John 
and  Carmichaell  to  the  south  and  south-east.  It  is  a  pleasant 
strath,  plentiful!  in  grass  and  corn,  and  coall;  and  the  minister  is 
well  provided. 

The  lands  of  Heysleside,  belonging  to  Samuel  Douglass,  has  a 
good  house  and  pleasant  seat,  close  by  a  wood,  etc.  —  P.  65. 

Note  2,  p.  27 

[Hazelside  Place,  the  fief  granted  to  Thomas  Dickson  by  Wil- 
liam the  Hardy,  seventh  Lord  Douglas,  is  still  pointed  out  about 
two  miles  to  the  south-west  of  the  Castle  Dangerous.  Dickson 

**  305 


NOTES 

was  sixty  years  of  age  at  the  time  when  Lord  James  first  appeared 
in  Douglas  Dale.  His  heirs  kept  possession  of  the  fief  for  centuries, 
and  some  respectable  gentlemen's  families  in  Lanarkshire  still 
trace  themselves  to  this  ancestor,  —  From  Notes  by  Mr.  Haddow.] 

Note  3,  p.  40 

The  name  of  maker  stands  for  poet  (with  the  original  sense  of 
which  word  it  exactly  corresponds)  in  the  old  Scottish  language. 
That  of  trouveur  or  troubadour  —  finder,  in  short  —  has  a  similar 
meaning,  and  almost  in  every  country  the  poetical  tribes  have 
been  graced  with  the  same  epithets,  inferring  the  property  of 
those  who  employ  invention  or  creation. 

Note  4,  p.  89 

These  bulls  are  thus  described  by  Hector  Boetius,  concerning 
whom  he  says:  — 

'  In  this  wood  (namely  the  Caledonian  wood)  were  sometime 
white  bulls,  with  crisp  and  curling  manes,  like  fierce  lions;  and 
though  they  seemed  meek  and  tame  in  the  remanent  figure  of  their 
bodies,  they  were  more  wild  than  any  other  beasts,  and  had  such 
hatred  against  the  society  and  company  of  men,  that  they  never 
came  in  the  woods  nor  lesuries  where  they  found  any  foot  or  hand 
thereof,  and  many  days  after  they  eat  not  of  the  herbs  that  were 
touched  or  handled  by  man.  These  bulls  were  so  wild,  that  they 
were  never  taken  but  by  slight  and  crafty  labour,  and  so  impatient, 
that  after  they  were  taken  they  died  from  insupportable  dolour. 
As  soon  as  any  man  invaded  these  bulls,  they  rushed  with  such 
terrible  press  upon  him  that  they  struck  him  to  the  earth,  taking 
no  fear  of  hounds,  sharp  lances,  or  other  most  penetrative  weap- 
ons.' —  Boetius,  Chron.  Scot.,  vol.  i,  p.  xxxix. 

The  wild  cattle  of  this  breed,  which  are  now  only  known  in  one 
manor  in  England,  that  of  Chillingham  Castle  in  Northumber- 
land (the  seat  of  the  Earl  of  Tankerville) ,  were,  in  the  memory  of 
man,  still  preserved  in  three  places  in  Scotland,  namely,  Drum- 
lanrig,  Cumbernauld,  and  the  upper  park  at  Hamilton  Palace,  at 
all  of  which  places,  except  the  last,  I  believe,  they  have  now  been 
destroyed,  on  account  of  their  ferocity.  But  though  those  of  mod- 
ern days  are  remarkable  for  their  white  colour,  with  black  muzzles, 
and  exhibiting,  in  a  small  degree,  the  black  mane,  about  three  or 
four  inches  long,  by  which  the  bulls  in  particular  are  distinguished, 

306 


NOTES 

they  do  not  by  any  means  come  near  the  terrific  description  given 
us  by  the  ancient  authors,  which  has  made  some  naturalists  think 
that  these  animals  should  probably  be  referred  to  a  different  spe- 
cies, though  possessing  the  same  general  habits,  and  included  in 
the  same  genus.  The  bones  which  are  often  discovered  in  Scot- 
tish mosses  belong  certainly  to  a  race  of  animals  much  larger  than 
those  of  Chillingham,  which  seldom  grow  to  above  80  stone  (of  14 
lbs.),  the  general  weight  varying  from  60  to  80  stone.  We  should 
be  accounted  very  negligent  by  one  class  of  readers  did  we  not 
record  that  the  beef  furnished  by  those  cattle  is  of  excellent  flavour 
and  finely  marbled. 

[The  following  is  an  extract  from  a  letter  received  by  Sir  Walter 
Scott  some  time  after  the  publication  of  the  novel :  — 

'When  it  is  wished  to  kill  any  of  the  cattle  at  Chillingham,  the 
keeper  goes  into  the  herd  on  horseback,  in  which  way  they  are 
quite  accessible,  and  singling  out  his  victim,  takes  aim  with  a 
large  rifle-gun,  and  seldom  fails  in  bringing  him  down.  If  the  poor 
animal  makes  much  bellowing  in  his  agony,  and  especially  if  the 
ground  be  stained  with  his  blood,  his  companions  become  very 
furious,  and  are  themselves,  I  believe,  accessory  to  his  death. 
After  which,  they  fly  off  to  a  distant  part  of  the  park,  and  he  is 
drawn  away  on  a  sledge.  Lord  Tankerville  is  very  tenacious  of 
these  singular  animals:  he  will  on  no  account  part  with  a  living 
one,  and  hardly  allows  of  a  sufficient  number  being  killed  to  leave 
pasturage  for  those  that  remain. 

'It  happened  on  one  occasion,  three  or  four  years  ago,  that  a 
party  visiting  at  the  castle,  among  whom  were  some  men  of  war, 
who  had  hunted  buffaloes  in  foreign  parts,  obtained  permission  to 
do  the  keeper's  work  and  shoot  one  of  the  wild  cattle.  They  sallied 
out  on  horseback,  and,  duly  equipped  for  the  enterprise,  attacked 
their  object.  The  poor  animal  received  several  wounds,  but  none 
of  them  proving  fatal,  he  retired  before  his  pursuers,  roaring  with 
pain  and  rage,  till,  planting  himself  against  a  wall  or  tree,  he  stood 
at  bay,  offering  a  front  of  defiance.  In  this  position  the  youthful 
heir  of  the  castle,  Lord  Ossulston,  rode  up  to  give  him  the  fatal 
shot.  Though  warned  of  the  danger  of  approaching  near  to  the 
enraged  animal,  and  especially  of  firing  without  first  having 
turned  his  horse's  head  in  a  direction  to  be  ready  for  flight,  he 
discharged  his  piece;  but  ere  he  could  turn  his  horse  round  to 
make  his  retreat,  the  raging  beast  had  plunged  his  immense  horns 
into  its  flank.  The  horse  staggered  and  was  near  falling,  but 
recovering  by  a  violent  effort,  he  extricated  himself  from  his  infur- 

307 


NOTES 

iated  pursuer,  making  off  with  all  the  speed  his  wasting  strength 
supplied,  his  entrails  meanwhile  dragging  on  the  ground;  till  at 
length  he  fell,  and  died  at  the  same  moment.  The  animal  was  now 
close  upon  his  rear,  and  the  young  lord  would  unquestionably 
have  shared  the  fate  of  his  unhappy  steed,  had  not  the  keeper, 
deeming  it  full  time  to  conclude  the  day's  diversion,  fired  at  the 
instant.  His  shot  brought  the  beast  to  the  ground,  and  nmning  in 
with  his  large  knife,  he  put  a  period  to  its  existence. 

'  This  scene  of  gentlemanly  pastime  was  viewed  from  a  turret 
of  the  castle  by  Lady  Tankerville  and  her  female  visitors.  Such  a 
situation  for  the  mother  of  the  young  hero  was  anything  but 
enviable.'] 

Note  s,  p.  143 

[This  is  a  most  graphic  and  accurate  description  of  the  present 
state  of  the  ruin.  Its  being  occupied  by  the  sexton  as  a  dwelling- 
place,  and  the  whole  scene  of  the  old  man's  interview  with  De 
Valence,  may  be  classed  with  our  illustrious  author's  most  felici- 
tous imaginings.  —  Note  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart  of  Douglas.] 

Note  6,  p.  146 

[The  Author  has  somewhat  altered  part  of  a  beautiful  unpub- 
lished fragment  of  Coleridge:  — 

Where  is  the  grave  of  Sir  Arthur  Orellan, — 
Where  may  the  grave  of  that  good  knight  be? 

By  the  marge  of  a  brook,  on  the  slope  of  Helvellyn, 
Under  the  boughs  of  a  young  birch-tree. 

The  oak  that  in  summer  was  pleasant  to  hear, 
That  rustled  in  autumn  all  withered  and  sear. 
That  whistled  and  groaned  thro'  the  winter  alone  — 
He  hath  gone,  and  a  birch  in  his  place  is  grown. 
The  knight's  bones  are  dust, 
His  good  sword  is  rust; 
His  spirit  is  with  the  saints,  we  trust. 

Edit.] 

Note  7,  p.  216 

The  queen  of  Robert  the  Bruce,  and  the  Countess  of  Buchan, 
by  whom,  as  one  of  Macduff's  descent,  he  was  crowned  at  Scone, 
were  secured  in  the  manner  described. 

Note  8,  p.  240 

The  ominous  name  of  Bloodmire  Sink  or  Syke  marks  a  narrow 
hollow  to  the  north-west  of  Douglas  Castle,  from  which  it  is  dis- 

308 


NOTES 

tant  about  the  third  of  a  mile.  Mr.  Haddow  states  that,  according 
to  local  tradition,  the  name  was  given  in  consequence  of  Sir  James 
Douglas  having  at  this  spot  intercepted  and  slain  part  of  the  gar- 
rison of  the  castle  while  De  Walton  was  in  command. 

Note  9,  p.  280 

[The  fall  of  this  brave  stripling  by  the  hand  of  the  English  gov- 
ernor, and  the  stern  heroism  of  the  father  in  turning  from  the  spot 
where  he  lay, '  a  model  of  beauty  and  strength,'  that  he  might  not 
be  withdrawn  from  the  duty  which  Douglas  assigned  him  of  pro- 
tecting the  Lady  of  Berkely,  excites  an  interest  for  both,  with 
which  it  is  almost  to  be  regretted  that  history  interferes.  It  was 
the  old  man,  Thomas  Dickson,  not  his  son,  who  fell.  The  slogan, 
*a  Douglas  —  a  Douglas,'  having  been  prematurely  raised,  Dick- 
son, who  was  within  the  church,  thinking  that  his  young  lord  with 
his  armed  band  was  at  hand,  drew  his  sword,  and,  with  only  one 
man  to  assist  him,  opposed  the  English,  who  now  rushed  to  the 
door.  Cut  across  the  middle  by  an  English  sword,  he  still  con- 
tinued his  opposition,  till  he  fell  lifeless  at  the  threshold.  Such  is 
the  tradition,  and  it  is  supported  by  a  memorial  of  some  authority 
—  a  tombstone,  still  to  be  seen  in  the  churchyard  of  Douglas,  on 
which  is  sculptured  a  figure  of  Dickson,  supporting  with  his  left 
arm  his  protruding  entrails,  and  raising  his  sword  with  the  other 
in  the  attitude  of  combat.  —  Note  by  the  Rev.  Mr.  Stewart  oj 
Douglas] 


f 


GLOSSARY 


accolade,  the  touch  of  the  sword 
on  the  shoulder  when  conferring 
knighthood. 

alcade,  alcalde,  a  Spanish  magistrate 
or  judge. 

ambuscado,  an  ambush. 

assoilzie,  pardon,  acquit,  absolve. 

a'thegither,  all  together. 

auld,  old. 

barret-cap,  a  flat  military  cap. 

bedral,  a  sexton  or  beadle. 

bent,  ta'en  the,  taken  to  the  open 

field. 
blink,  a  glance  of  the  eye. 
borrel,  unlearned,  simple. 
bourg,  borough,  town. 
buckle,  the  curl  of  a  wig. 

cadgy,  lively,  frolicsome. 
carle,  a  fellow,  an  old  man. 
carline,  an  old  woman. 
cartel,  a  challenge  to  single  combat, 
close,  a  bout,  a  turn. 
corselet,  a  coat  of  armour, 
costume,  custom. 
cousing,  a  cousin,  a  blood-relation. 
cresset,  a  fixed  candle  stick  or  small 
portable  fire. 

damosel,  a  damsel. 

dead-thraw,  the  death-agony. 

deil,  the  devil. 

demesne,  an  estate  occupied  by  the 
owner  himself. 

dolour,  a  fretting  or  pining  at  cap- 
tivity. 

donjon,  the  principal  tower  in  a  feu- 
dal castle. 

drink-geld,  a  tip,  money. 

faitour,  a  traitor,  a  scoundrel, 
falset,  falsehood. 

fashes,  gives  himself  trouble  or  pains, 
fula^art,  a  polecat. 


gallooned,  ornamented  with  galloon, 
a  kind  of  thread  lace  used  for 
binding. 

gear,  affair,  business. 

good-daughter,  daughter-in-law. 

grey-goose  shaft,  an  arrow. 

groat,  an  old  English  coin  worth  4d. 

guide,  treat  ill,  use  ill. 

haggard,  a  wild  hawk. 

haggis,  the  lights,  liver,  and  heart  of 
a  sheep,  mixed  with  oatmeal,  beef- 
suet,  onions,  etc.,  the  whole  boiled 
in  a  sheep's  stomach  bag. 

hogg,  a  shilling. 

holm,  a  flat  plain  beside  a  brook  or 
river. 

homing  and  hooping,  blowing  of 
horns  and  shouting. 

ing,  a  flat  plain  beside  a  brook  or 
river. 

kail,  cabbage. 

kail-yard,  a  cabbage-plot,  or  garden. 

ken,  know. 

kerne,  a  light-armed  foot-soldier. 

kirtle,  a  gown,  an  outer  petticoat. 

laick,  lay. 

landlouper,  a  stroller,  an  adventurer. 

landward,  the  outlying  rural  districts. 

lave,  the  rest. 

leal,  loyal. 

lesuries,  pastures. 

lippen,  trust  to,  confide  in. 

lobscouse,  a  hash  of  meat  and  vege- 
tables; stewed  biscuit  and  salt 
meat. 

lootie,  a  marauder,  a  plunderer. 

los,  praise. 

louping,  leaping. 

mainrent,  vassalage. 
moldwarp,  a  mole. 


3" 


GLOSSARY 


nottz,  intelligence  and  enterprise. 

oe,  a  grandchild. 

partizan,  a  kind  of  halberd  or  pike, 
peon,  a  foot-soldier. 
pibroch,  an  air  on  the  bagpipes. 
picaresca,  knavish,  adventurous,  and 

not  over  honest. 
pickaninnies,  small  children, 
podagra,  the  gout, 
prestantin,  one  who  receives  military 

pay. 
pursuivant,  a  junior  heraldic  officer, 

a  warrant  officer. 

quarter-staff,  a  stout  pole  from  six  to 
eight  feet  long  and  tipped  with 
iron. 

raploch,  coarse  woolen,  homespun. 

rationale,  the  reasons. 

rebeck,  a  stringed  instrument,  not 
unlike  a  violin  in  appearance. 

recheat,  the  huntsman's  signal  of  re- 
call from  the  hunt. 

reif,  robbery. 

rokelay,  a  short  cloak  worn  by  wo- 
men. 

rose-noble,  an  old  gold  coin  worth 
65.  8d. 

rote,  a  kind  of  harp  or  guitar  played 
by  turning  a  handle. 

rugs  and  reives,  tears  and  carries  oS 
by  violence. 

sack,  a  kind  of  dry  wine, 
samyn,  the  same. 

sasine,  the  legal  instrument  or  docu- 
ment which  testihes  that  so-and-so 


has  been  put  in  lawful  possession  of 

certain  property, 
screeds,  pieces  torn  off,  shreds, 
seneschal,  a  steward. 
shaw,'  wild  wood  or  forest, 
shieling,  a  hut. 
sholto  dhu  Glass,  see  yon  dark  grey 

man. 
skaithless,  unhurt,  uninjured, 
slogan,  the  war  cry  of  a  Highland 

clan. 
springald,  a  youth,  an  active  young 

man. 
swivel,  a  small  cannon  fixed  on  a 

swivel, 
syllabub,  a  dish  of  wine  with  milk  or 

cream,  a  sort  of  curd. 

tantivy,  a  fit  of  violence. 

tappiced,  concealed,  hidden. 

tauridor,  a  bull-fighter. 

thane,  an  earl  or  noble. 

thirlage,  the  obligation  of  a  tenant  to 
have  his  corn  ground  at  a  par- 
ticular mill  and  to  pay  the  usual 
consideration. 

tinchel,  a  great  drive  of  game,  made 
by  a  wide  ring  of  beaters. 

tineing,  a  loss,  losing. 

tint,  lost. 

tope,  a  knoll  or  slight  eminence. 

toy,  a  headdress  worn  by  old  women 
of  the  lower  classes. 

upsides,  on  an  equal  footing  with. 

vavasour,  a  vassal. 

wight,  strong  and  active. 


GENERAL  APPENDIX  TO  THE 
WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


i 


GENERAL  APPENDIX 

I.   TABLE  OF  THE  WAVERLEY  NOVELS  IN 
THEIR  CHRONOLOGICAL  ORDER 

The  Middle  Ages 

Count  Robert  of  Paris  relates  to  the  period,  about  1098  a.d., 
when  the  Crusaders  under  Godfrey  of  Bouillon  were  before 
Constantinople.  William  Rufus  was  then  King  of  England, 
and  Constantinople  was  under  Alexius  Comnenus,  Emperor  of 
Greece. 

The  Betrothed  opens  in  the  autumn  of  1187,  when  Henry  II 
was  King  of  England,  and  closes  in  the  summer  of  1192.  The 
scene  of  action  is  the  border  of  England  and  Wales  and  the  city 
of  Gloucester. 

The  Talisman.  The  action  of  the  story  takes  place  in  the  Syrian 
Desert  near  the  Dead  Sea,  during  a  thirty  days'  truce  between 
the  followers  of  the  Cross  and  those  of  the  Crescent,  in  1191. 
Richard  I  of  England  was  the  leader  of  the  Crusaders. 

IVANHOE  covers  a  period  of  about  two  weeks  in  the  summer  of 
II 94,  after  the  return  of  Richard  I  from  imprisonment  in 
Austria.    The  scene  is  Yorkshire  and  Leicestershire. 

Castle  Dangerous  is  a  tale  of  the  wars  between  Edward  I  of 
England  and  Bruce  of  Scotland.  The  action  takes  place  in 
Douglasdale,  Kirkcudbrightshire,  in  March,  1307. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  is  a  story  of  Perth  and  its  vicinity 
about  1402,  when  Henry  IV  was  King  of  England  and  Rob- 
ert III  King  of  Scotland. 

The  Renaissance 

QuENTiN  DuRWARD  deals  with  events  in  and  around  Liege  in 
1468,  the  time  of  Louis  XI  of  France  and  Charles  the  Bold, 
Dilke  of  Burgundy. 

Anne  of  Geierstein.  This  romance  of  Switzerland  and  Bur- 
gundy begins  in  1474  and  ends  in  1477,  soon  after  the  battle 
of  Nancy,  where  Charles  the  Bold  was  killed. 

315 


CHRONOLOGICAL  ORDER 

The  Monastery  is  a  story  of  the  Border  Country,  especially  near 
Melrose  Abbey,  in  1547-57,  under  Mary  Queen  of  Scots. 

The  Elizabethan  Period 

The  Abbot,  a  sequel  to  The  Monastery,  relates  to  the  history 
of  Queen  Mary  of  Scotland  from  her  imprisonment  in  Loch- 
leven  Castle  till  her  flight  into  England,  1567-68. 

Kenilworth.  The  date  of  the  story  is  1575,  in  the  reign  of  Eliza- 
beth. The  principal  incidents  occur  at  Kenilworth  Castle  and 
in  London,  Berkshire,  Oxfordshire,  and  Devonshire. 

The  Seventeenth  Century 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel.   The  action  of  this  romance  takes 

,  place  in  the  spring,  about  1618,  almost  wholly  in  London  and 
Greenwich.  James  I  was  then  King  of  England. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose.  The  time  is  1644-45,  ii^  the  reign  of 
Charles  I,  and  the  place  the  Highlands  of  Scotland. 

Woodstock;  or,  The  Cavalier,  'a  Tale  of  the  Year  1651.'  The 
main  action  occupies  about  a  fortnight,  but  the  closing  incident 
does  not  occur  till  1660.  Woodstock,  Windsor,  and  the  court  of 
Charles  II  at  Brussels  are  the  chief  scenes. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak  relates  mainly  to  the  period  of  the  pre- 
tended Popish  Plot,  1678,  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II,  but  opens 
some  twenty  years  earlier.  The  scenes  are  laid  in  Derbyshire, 
the  Isle  of  Man,  and  London. 

Old  Mortality  is  a  tale  of  the  Covenanters*  insurrection  against 
Charles  II.  It  covers  the  years  1679-89,  from  the  defeat  of 
Claverhouse  at  Drumclog  to  the  fight  at  Killiecrankie. 

The  Pirate.  The  time  of  this  story  is  the  last  years  of  the  seven- 
teenth century,  and  the  place  the  Zetland  (Shetland)  and 
Orkney  Islands. 

The  Eighteenth  Century 

The  Black  Dwarf  is  a  story  of  the  Scottish  Border  during 

Queen  Anne's  reign,  about  1708. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor.  The  tragic  action  of  this  story 

takes  place  in  East  Lothian,  probably  in  1 709-11,  under  Queen 

Anne. 

316 


CHRONOLOGICAL  ORDER 

Rob  Roy  is  a  tale  of  the  Jacobite  rebellion  of  171 5-16,  when 
George  I  was  king,  and  the  principal  scenes  are  Northumber- 
land, Glasgow,  and  the  mountains  of  Loch  Lomond. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian  opens  with  the  Porteous  Riot  in 
Edinburgh,  1736,  and  closes  in  Argyleshire  in  1751.  George  II 
was  king. 

Waverley  deals  with  the  Jacobite  insurrection  of  1745,  led  by 
Charles  Edward  Stuart,  in  the  reign  of  George  II.  The  chief 
scene  of  action  is  the  highlands  of  Perthshire. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter.  The  period  of  this  story  is  about 
1750-75,  and  the  scene  shifts  from  one  of  the  midland  counties 
of  Scotland  to  the  Isle  of  Wight,  Madras,  and  Bangalore. 

Guy  Mannering,  of  which  Galloway  is  the  chief  scene  of  action, 
covers  the  years  1760-82. 

The  Highland  Widow.  The  main  incidents  occur  about  1765, 
in  Argyleshire  and  Dumbarton. 

Redgauntlet.  The  events  of  this  Jacobite  story  occupy  less  than 
two  months  in  the  summer  of  1 766,  The  scene  is  laid  principally 
in  Edinburgh,  Dumfries,  and  the  Solway  Firth. 

The  Two  Drovers  is  a  Perthshire  story  of  the  last  part  of  the 
eighteenth  century. 

The  Antiquary  belongs  to  the  last  years  of  the  eighteenth  cen- 
tury, and  its  incidents  take  place  mainly  in  Edinburgh  and 
Forfarshire. 

St.  Ronan's  Well  is  a  story  of  the  early  nineteenth  century  in 
Scotland. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


n.   PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS  IN  THE 
WAVERLEY  NOVELS 


A ,  Marquis  of,  leader  of  the  opposition  to  Sir 

William  Ashton. 
Abbess  of  the  Nunnery  at  Gloucester. 
Abbess  of  the  Ursuline  Convent. 
Abbot,  the,  at  Mont  St.  Victoire. 
Abdalla,  one  of  Sir  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert's  slaves. 
Abdallah  el  Hadgi,  Saladin's  envoy. 
Abney,  Albert  Lee's  friend. 
Achilles  Tatius,  leader  of  the  Varangians. 
Acland,  Sir  Thomas,  a  royalist. 
Adie  of  Aikenshaw,  a  neighbour  of  Glendinning. 
Adonbec  el  Hakim,  the  physician  (a    disguise 

assumed  by  Saladin). 
Agatha.  See  Bertha. 

Agelastes,  Michael,  the  cynic  philosopher. 
Aglionby,  the  recorder. 

Aikwood,  Ringan,  the  Knockwinnock  '  poinder.' 
Airlie,  the  Earl  of,  in  King  Charles's  service. 
Alasco,    the    astrologer    {alias    Dr.    Demetrius 

Doboobie). 
Albany,  Joseph.  See  Rochecli£fe. 
Albany,  Murdoch,  Duke  of,  nephew  to  Robert, 

King  of  Scotland. 
Albany,  Robert,  Duke  of,  brother  of  King  Robert. 
Alberick,  Prince  Richard's  squire. 
Aldrick,    the   Jesuit,    the   Countess  of   Derby's 

confessor. 
Aldrovand,  Father,  Sir  Raymond's  chaplain. 
Alexius  Comnenus,  the  Greek  Emperor. 
Alibi,  Tom,  a  solicitor. 
Alice,  Dame  Whitecraft's  servant  girl. 
Alice,  Eveline  Berenger's  attendant. 
Alicia,  the  Lady,  daughter  of  VValdemar  Fitzurse. 
Alison,  an  old  domestic  at  Cumnor  Place. 
Allan,  a  Highlander. 

Allan,  Mrs.,  the  housekeeper  at  Woodbourne. 
Allan,  Major,  in  the  royal  army. 
Allan,  William,  Father  Eustace's  name  in  youth. 
Allan-a-dale,  one  of  Robin  Hood's  men. 
AUaster,  a  minstrel. 
Allen,  Long,  in  King  Richard's  guard. 
Altamont,  Frederick,  Jack  Bunce's  assumed  name. 
Amaury,   Sir  Giles,   the  Grand   Master  of  the 

Templars. 
Ambrose,  the  Misses  Arthuret's  old  domestic. 
Ambrose,  Brother,  a  monk  attending  Prior  Aymer. 

318 


The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Betrothed. 

Quentin  Durward. 

Anne  of  Geierslein. 

I  van  hoe. 

The  Talisman. 

Woodstock. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Woodstock. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Talisman. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Kr.nilworlh. 

The  A  nliquary. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Kenilworth. 


The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Betrothed. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Betrothed. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Waverley. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak, 
The  Betrothed. 
Ivanhoe. 
Kenilworth. 
Rob  Roy. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Old  Mortality. 
The  Monastery. 
Ivanhoe. 
Rob  Roy. 
The  Talisman. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Talisman. 

Rcdgauntlet. 

Ivanhoe. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Ambrose,  Father,  or  Edward  Glendinning,  abbot 

of  Kennaquhair. 
Ambrose,  Mr.,  an  old  servant  of  the  Arthurets. 
Amelot,  Damian  de  Lacy's  page. 
Anderson,  Eppie,  a  servant  at  Meg  Dods's  inn. 
Andr6,  Petit,  a  public  executioner. 
Andrew,  the  gardener  at  Ellangowan. 
Andrews,  a  dragoon  in  the  royal  army, 
Anjou,  Prince  John  of,  brother  of  King  Richard. 
Anna  Comnena,  the  Princess. 
Annabella,  Queen  Consort  of  Robert  III  of 

Scotland. 
Annaple,  Hobbie  Elliot's  former  nurse. 
Anselm,  one  of  Front-de-Bceuf's  men. 
Anselm,  Prior,  confessor  to  King  Robert. 
Anster,  Hob,  a  constable  at  Kinross  village. 
Anthony,  the  old  postilion  at  Meg  Dods's. 
Anthony,  an  English  archer  at  Dickson's  cottage. 
Antiquary,  the.  See  Oldbuck. 
Anton,  one  of  Henry  Smith's  men. 
Antonio,  a  Swiss  lad,  the  guide  from  Lucerne. 
Antrim,  the  Earl  of,  in  King  Charles's  service. 
Anwold,  a  torchbearer  at  Rotherwood. 
Arbroath,  Lord,  of  Queen  Mary's  party. 
Archibald,  John,  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  attendant. 
Ardenvohr,  the  Knight  of.   See  Campbell,  Sir 

Duncan. 
Argentin,  le  Sieur  d',  one  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

officers. 
Argyle,  John,  Duke  of. 
Argyle,  Duke  of,  patron  of  Jeanie  Deans. 
Argyle,  Marquis  of,  MacCallum  More,  or  Gillespie 

Grumach. 
Arlington,  Henry  Bennet,  Earl  of,  a  privy  councillor. 
Armstrong,  Archie,  the  court  jester. 
Armstrong,  Grace,  Hobbie  Elliot's  bride  elect. 
Armstrong,  John,  the  Laird  of  Mangerton. 
Arnheim,  Herman,  Baron  of,  Anne  of  Geierstein's 

grandfather. 
Arnheim,  Hermione,  Baroness  of.  Baron  Herman's 

wife. 
Arnheim,  Sybilla  of,  Anne  of  Geierstein's  mother. 
Amot,  Andrew,  one  of  the  Scottish  Archer  guard. 
Arthuret,  Miss  Seraphina,  a  Papist  lady. 
Arthuret,  Miss  Angelica,  her  sister. 
Arundel,  Earl  of,  a  crusader,  one  of  the  Lords 

Marchers. 
Ashton,  Sir  William,  the  Lord  Keeper  of  Scotland. 
Ashton,  Lady  Eleanor,  his  wife. 
Ashton,  Colonel  Sholto  Douglas,  their  elder  son. 
Ashton,  Lucy,  their  daughter,  betrothed  to  Edgar 

Ravenswood,  married  to  the  Laird  of  Bucklaw. 


The  Abbot. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Betrothed. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Quenlin  Durward, 

Guy  Mannering. 

Old  Mortality. 

Ivanhoe. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Ivanhoe. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Abbot. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Anne  of  Geierslein. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 


A  nne  of  Geierstein. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Laird's  Jock. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Quenlin  Durward. 
Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 

The  Betrothed. 
The  Bride  of  Lammerntoor. 
The  Bride  of  Lammerntoor. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 


319 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Ashton,  Henry,  their  younger  son. 

Aspramonte,  Brenhilda  d',  Countess  of  Paris. 

Aspramonte,  old  Knight  of,  her  father. 

Aspramonte,  the  Lady  of,  her  mother. 

Astarte,  an  attendant  on  the  Princess  Anna 
Comnena. 

Aston,  Sir  Jacob,  of  King  Charles  the  First's  party. 

Atheistane,  the  Thane  of  Coningsburgh,  'The 
Unready.' 

Athoie,  Marquis  of,  a  kinsman  of  Edgar  Ravens- 
wood. 

Auchtermuchty,  John,  the  carrier  at  Kinross. 

Augustine,  the  name  assumed  by  Augusta  of 
Berkely. 

Avenel,  Walter,  Baron  of. 

Avenel,  the  Lady  Alice  of,  wife  of  Baron  Walter. 

Avenel,  Mary,  daughter  of  the  Lady  Alice. 

Avenel,  Julian,  the  usurper  of  Avenel  Castle. 

Avenel,  the  White  Lady  of,  a  spirit. 

Aylmer,  Mrs.,  a  neighbour  of  Sir  Henry  Lee. 

Aymer,  the  prior  of  Jorvaulx  Abbey. 

Babie,  old  Alice  Gray's  servant  girl. 

Badger,  Will,  Sir  Hugh  Robsart's  favourite  domes- 
tic. 

Baillie,  General,  a  Parliamentary  leader. 

Baillie,  Giles,  a  gipsy,  father  of  Gabriel  Faa. 

Bailzou,  Annaple,  a  spae  wife. 

Bajazet,  a  black  page  at  St.  James's  Palace, 

Balafrd,  le,  alias  Ludovic  Lesly. 

Balchristie,  Janet,  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes's 
housekeeper. 

Balderstone,  Caleb,  the  old  butler  at  Wolf's  Crag 
Tower. 

Baldrick,  an  ancestor  of  the  Berengers. 

Baldringham,  the  Lady  Ermengarde  of,  Eveline 
Berenger's  grand-aunt. 

Baldwin,  Archbishop  of  Canterbury. 

Baldwin,  Count,  a  crusader,  brother  of  Godfrey 
of  Bouillon. 

Baldwin  de  Oyley,  squire  to  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert. 

Balfour,  John,  of  Burley,  a  leader  of  the  Covenant- 
ers' army. 

Baliol,  Edward,  usurper  of  Scotland. 

Baliol,  Mrs.  Martha  Bethune,  Mr.  Croftangry's 
friend. 

Ballenkeiroch,  a  Highland  chief,  an  old  friend  of 
Fergus  Mac-Ivor. 

Balmawhapple,  the  Laird  of.  See  Falconer. 

Balneaves,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 

Balruddery,  the  Laird  of,  a  relation  of  Godfrey 
Bertram. 


Tke  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Woodstock. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
The  Abbot. 

Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Monastery, 
The  Monastery. 
Woodstock. 
Ivanhoe. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Kenilworth. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Quentin  Durward. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
The  Betrothed. 

The  Betrothed. 
The  Betrothed. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Ivanhoe. 

Old  Mortality. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth  and 

The  Highland  Widow. 

Waverley. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 


320 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Balue,  Cardinal,  in  the  court  of  Louis  XI. 

Balveny,  Lord,  kinsman  of  the  Earl  of  Douglas. 

Bamberg,  the  Bishop  of,  in  Donnerhugel's  narra- 
tive. 

Bangtext,  Captain  Salathiel,  'a  godly  gentleman.' 

Barak  el  Hadgi,  an  emissary  from  Hyder  Ali's  court, 

Bardon,  Hugh,  the  scout  master  of  Prince  John. 

Barnes,  Colonel  Mannering's  servant  at  Wood- 
bourne. 

Barnes,  Betty,  Mr.  Warburton's  cook-maid. 

Barstow,  Captain,  alias  Fenwicke,  the  Jesuit,  a 
secret  correspondent  of  the  Countess  of  Derby. 

Bartholomew,  Brother,  the  guide  of  the  Pblllpsons 
towards  Strasburg. 

Bauldie,  the  Quaker's  stable  boy. 

Bauldie,  an  old  shepherd. 

Beacon,  Tom,  Master  Chifl5nch's  groom. 

Bean  Lean,  Donald,  alias  Will  Ruthven,  or  Ruffin, 
a  Highland  robber  chief. 

Bean,  Alice,  his  daughter. 

Bearcllff,  Deacon,  at  the  Kippletringan  Inn. 

Beauffet,  Mrs.  Baliol's  butler. 

Beaujeu,  Monsieur  le  Chevalier  de,  keeper  of  the 
gambling  house. 

Beaujeu,  le  Compte  de,  a  French  officer  in  the 
Chevalier's  army. 

Beaujeu,  the  Lady  of,  King  Louis'  elder  daughter. 

Beaumanoir,  Sir  Lucas,  Grand  Master  of  the 
Knights  Templars. 

Beenie,  the  chambermaid  at  Meg  Dods's  inn. 

Beg,  Callum,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's  page. 

Belash  Cassim,  Adam  Hartley's  guard. 

Bellenden,  Lady  Margaret,  of  the  Tower  of 
Tlllletudlem,  an  old  Tory  lady. 

Bellenden,  old  Major  Miles,  her  brother-in-law. 

Bellenden,  Miss  Edith,  her  grand-daughter,  be- 
trothed to  Lord  Evandale,  afterwards  married 
to  Henry  Morton. 

Bend-the-Bow,  an  English  archer,  at  Dickson's 
cottage. 

Ben  Israel,  or  Ben  Samuel,  Nathan,  the  physician, 
friend  of  Isaac  the  Jew. 

Benjie,  Little,  or  Benjamin  Coltherd,  a  spy 
employed  by  Crlstal  Nixon. 

Bennet,  Brother,  a  monk  at  St.  Mary's  convent. 

Berengaria,  Queen-Consort  of  Richard  Coeur-de- 
Lion. 

Berenger,  Sir  Raymond,  the  old  Norman  warrior. 

Berenger,  the  Lady  Eveline,  Sir  Raymond's 
daughter,  betrothed  to  Sir  Hugo  de  Lacy. 

B^-rkely,  the  Lady  Augusta,  plighted,  and  after- 
wards married,  to  Sir  John  de  Walton. 


Quentin  Durward. 

The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 

Anne  oJ  Geierstein. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
Ivanhoe. 

Guy  Mannering. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Redgauntlet. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Waverley, 

Waverley. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Highland  Widow, 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Waverley. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Ivanhoe. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Waverley. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality. 


Old  Mortality. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

Ivanhoe. 

Redgauntlet. 
The  Monastery. 

The  Talisman. 
The  Betrothed. 

The  Betrothed. 

Castle  Dangerous. 


45 


321 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Bertha,  or  Agatha,  the  betrothed  of  Hereward. 

Bertha,  Aldobrand  Oldenbuck's  wife. 

Bertram,  the  English  minstrel. 

Bertram,  Mr.  Godfrey,  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan. 

Bertram,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 

Bertram,  Harry,  their  son,  in  love  with  Julia 

Mannering. 
Bertram,  Lucy,  his  sister. 
Bertram,  Miss  Margaret,  of  Singleside,  Lucy's 

maiden  aunt. 
Bertram,  Sir  Allan,  an  ancestor  of  the  Laird  of 

Ellangowan. 
Bertram,  Dennis,  son  of  Sir  Allan. 
Bertram,  Donohoe,  son  of  Dennis. 
Bertram,  Lewis,  father  of  Godfrey. 
Bertram,  Captain  Andrew,  a  relation. 
Berwine,  the  Lady  of  Baldringham's  favourite 

attendant. 
Bibbet,  Master,  General  Harrison's  secretary. 
Bickerton,  Mrs.,  landlady  of  the  Seven  Stars  Inn, 

York. 
Bide-the-Bent,  Mr.  Peter,  the  minister  of  Wolf's 

Hope  village. 
Bidmore,  Lord,  the  Rev.  Josiah  Cargill's  patron. 
Bidmore,  the  Honourable  Augustus,  his  son,  Mr. 

Cargill's  pupil. 
Bidmore,  Miss  Augusta,  Lord  Bidmore's  daughter, 

beloved  by  Mr.  Cargill. 
Biederman,  Arnold,  the  Landamman  of  Unter- 

walden  {alias  Count  Arnold  of  Geierstein). 
Biederman,  Bertha,  his  late  wife. 
Biederman,    Rudiger,    Ernest,    Sigismund,    and 

Ulrick,  his  sons. 
Bigot,  de.  Prince  John's  seneschal. 
Bimbister,  Margery,  the  old  Ranzelman's  spouse. 
Bindloose,  Master  John,  the  sheriff-clerk,  etc.,  at 

Marchthorn. 
Binks,  Sir  Bingo,  a  fox-hunting  baronet  at  the  Spa. 
Binks,    Lady,    his   wife,    formerly   Miss  Rachel 

Bonnyrigg. 
Bittlebrains,  Lord,  a  friend  of  Sir  W.  Ashton. 
Bittlebrains,  Lady,  his  wife. 
Black  Dwarf,  the,  Elshender  the  Recluse. 
Black  Feltham,  one  of  Captain  Colepepper's  com- 
panions. 
Blackchester,  the   Countess   of,   sister  to   Lord 

Dalgarno. 
Blacklees,  Tomalin,  in  King  Richard's  guard. 
Bladderskate,  Lord,  a  Scottish  judge. 
Blair,  Father  Clement,  a  Carthusian  monk,  Cathe- 
rine Glover's  confessor. 
Blair,  Rev.  Mr.,  a  talented  preacher. 


Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Antiquary. 
Castle  Dangerous. 
Guy  Mannering, 
Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Betrothed. 
Woodstock. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  WM. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Ivanhoe. 
The  Pirate. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Talisman. 
Redgaunllet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Guy  Mannering. 


322 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Blanche,  one  of  Lady  Eveline's  attendants. 
Blandeville,   Lady   Emily,   a  neighbour  of  the 

Waverleys,  afterwards  married  to  Colonel  Talbot. 
Blane,  Niel,  the  town  piper  and  publican. 
Blane,  Jenny,  his  daughter. 
Blattergowl,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  the  minister  of  Trot- 

cosey. 
Blenkensop,  Lady,  a  close  confederate  of  the 

Duchess  of  Marlborough. 
Bletson,  Joshua,  one  of  the  parliamentary  com- 
missioners. 
Blinkinsop,  a  smuggler. 
Block,  Martin,  one  of  the  committee  of  the  estates 

of  Burgundy. 
Blok,  Nikkei,  the  butcher,  one  of  the  insurgents  at 

Liege. 
Blondel  de  Nesle,  King  Richard's  favourite  minstrel, 
Blood,  Colonel  Thomas,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's 

emissary. 
Blount,  Sir  Nicholas,  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  master  of 

the  horse. 
Blower,  Mrs.  Margaret,  the  shipowner's  widow  at 

the  Spa,  afterwards  married  to  Dr.  Quackleben. 
Blowselinda,  a  denizen  of  Whitefriars. 
Bodach  Glas,  the  Grey  Spectre. 
Bohemond,  Prince  of  Antioch,  a  crusader. 
Bohun,  Henry,  Earl  of  Essex,  Lord  High  Constable 

of  England. 
Boisgelin,  the  young  Countess  de,  at  King  Rent's 

ball  at  Aix. 
Bois-Guilbert,  Sir  Brian  de,  a  preceptor  of  the 

Knights  Templars. 
Bolton,  Stawarth,  an  English  officer. 
Boniface,  Lord  Abbot  of  St.  Mary's. 
Boniface,  Father,  the  ex-abbot,  as  Blinkhoolie,  the 

old  gardener  at  Kinross. 
Bonstetten,  Nicholas,  the  old  deputy  of  Schwitz. 
Bonthron,  Antony,    the   murderer   in   Sir   John 

Ramorny's  service. 
Booshalloch,  Niel,  the  Highland  cow-herd. 
Bothwell,  Francis,  Earl  of,  grandfather  of  Sergeant 

Bothwell. 
Bothwell,  Sergeant,  alias  Francis  Stewart,  in  the 

royal  army. 
Bothwell,  Mrs.  Margaret,  My  Aunt  Margaret. 

Bothwell,  Lady,  Aunt  Margaret's  grandmother. 

Bothwell,  Sir  Geoffrey,  Lady  Bothwell's  husband. 

Bowie,  Bessie,  the  cripple. 

Bowyer,  Master,  usher  of  the  black  rod. 


The  Betrothed. 

Waverley. 
Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Woodstock. 
Redgauntlet. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Quenlin  Durward. 
The  Talisman. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Kenilworth. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Waverley. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Ivanhoe. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Abbot. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Old  Mortality  and  The 
Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Old  Mortality. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Kenilworth. 


323 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Brackel,  Adrian,  the  mountebank,  formerly  master 
of  Fenella. 

Bracy,  Sir  Maurice  de,  a  follower  of  Prince  John. 

Bradbourne,  Mistress  Lilias,  Lady  Mary  Avenel's 
waiting  woman. 

Bradwardine  and  Tully-Veolan,  the  Baron  of,  Mr. 
Cosmo  Comyne  Bradwardine. 

Bradwardine,  Rose,  his  daughter,  afterwards  mar- 
ried to  Waverley. 

Bradwardine,  Malcolm,  of  Inchgrabbit,  heir  male 
of  the  Baron. 

Breadalbane,  a  rival  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle. 

Breck,  Alison,  an  old  fishwife,  a  friend  of  the 
Mucklebackits. 

Breck,  Angus,  a  follower  of  Rob  Roy. 

Brengwain,  wife  of  Gwenwyn,  Prince  of  Powys. 

Brenhilda,  Countess  of  Paris. 

Bretagne,  the  Duke  of. 

Brewer,  Sam,  a  follower  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril. 

Bridgenorth,  Major  Ralph,  a  Roundhead,  a  neigh- 
bour of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril. 

Bridgenorth,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 

Bridgenorth,  Alice,  their  daughter,  afterwards 
married  to  Julian  Peveril. 

Bridget,  Mother,  the  abbess  of  St.  Catherine, 
Catherine  Seyton's  aunt. 

Bridget,  May,  the  milkwoman  at  Falkland  Castle. 

Bridlesley,  Joe,  the  horse-dealer  at  Liverpool. 

Bridoon,  Corporal,  in  Lieutenant  Nosebag's  regi- 
ment. 

Briennius,  Nicephorus,  the  Cssar  of  the  Grecian 
Empire. 

Brittson,  Sergeant,  with  Stawarth  Bolton. 

Broadfoot,  Saunders,  a  messenger. 

Broadwheel,  Joe,  Mrs.  Bickerton's  waggoner. 

Broken-girth-flow,  the  Laird  of,  one  of  the  Jacobite 
conspirators. 

Brown.  Jonathan,  landlord  of  the  Black  Bear  at 
Darlington. 

Brown,  Vanbeest,  Dirk  Hatteraick's  lieutenant. 

Brown,  Vanbeest,  the  name  given  to  Harry 
Bertram  when  he  was  kidnapped. 

Browne,  General,  a  visitor  at  Lord  Woodville's. 

Broxmouth,  John,  a  neighbour  of  Hob  Miller's. 

Brydone,  Halbert,  father  of  Dame  Glendinning. 

Bubenberg,  Sir  Adrian  de,  a  veteran  knight  of 
Berne. 

Buckingham,  the  Duke  of,  'Steenie,'  favourite  of 
James  I. 

Buckingham,  George  Villiers,  Duke  of,  Charles 
the  Second's  favourite. 

Buckingham,  Mary,  Duchess  of. 


Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Ivanhoe. 

The  Abbot. 

Waverley. 

Waverley. 

Waverley. 
Rob  Roy. 

The  Antiquary.  - 
Rob  Roy. 
The  Betrothed. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Anne  of  Geierslein. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth, 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Waverley. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Rob  Roy. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Tapestried  Chamber. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Monastery. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak  and 

Woodstock. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


I 


324 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Bucklaw,  the  Laird  of,  or  Frank  Hayston,  after- 
wards Laird  of  Girnington. 

Bullsegg,  Mr.,  the  Laird  of  Killancureit,  a  friend 
of  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine. 

Bulmer,  Valentine,  the  titular  Earl  of  Etherington, 
married  to  Clara  Mowbray. 

Bulmer,  Ann,  his  mother,  married  to  the  Earl  of 
Etherington  during  the  life  of  his  countess. 

Bunce,  Jack,  a  comrade  of  the  Pirate,  alias 
Frederick  Altamont,  a  ci-devant  player. 

Buncle,  Master,  messenger  to  the  Earl  of  Douglas. 

Burgundy,  Philip  the  Good,  Duke  of,  father  of 
Charles  the  Bold. 

Burgundy,  the  Duke  of,  Charles  the  Bold. 

Burgundy,  the  Chancellor  of,  the  Archbishop  of 

Vienne. 
Burleigh,  Lord,  the  lord  treasurer. 
Burleigh,  Lord,  the  parliamentary  leader. 
Buskbody,     Martha,     the    mantua    maker    at 

Gandercleugh. 
Butler,  Mr.,  the  military  chaplain  at  Madras. 
Butler,  Reuben,  a  Presbyterian  minister,  married 

to  Jeanie  Deans. 
Butler,  Benjamin,  his  father. 
Butler,  Stephen  (or  'Bible'),  his  grandfather. 
Butler,  Judith,  his  grandmother. 
Butler,  David,  Reuben,  and  Femie  (Euphemia), 

bis  children. 

Cabestaing,  William,  a  Troubadour. 
Cadwallon,  Prince  Gwenwyn's  favourite  bard. 
Calder,  Quarter-master,  at  Madras. 
Calista    of     Montfaucon,     Queen    Berengaria's 

bower-woman, 
Galium  Beg,  a  page  of  Fergus  Mac-Ivor. 
Calvert,  the  Earl  of  Glenallan's  groom. 
Cameron,  Sergeant  Allan  Breack,  under  Captain 

Campbell. 
Cameron,  Richard,  founder  of  the  Cameronians. 
Campbell,  the  Lady  Mary,  and  the  Lady  Caroline, 

daughters  of  the  Duke  of  Argyle. 
Campbell,  Sir  Duncan,  the  Knight  of  Ardenvohr, 

in  Argyle's  army. 
Campbell,  Lady,  his  wife. 
Campbell,    Sir    Duncan,    of    Auchenbreck,    in 

Argyle's  army. 
Campbell,   Murdoch,  a  servant,   a  disguise  as- 
sumed by  the  Marquis  of  .\rgyle. 
Campbell,  General,  'Black  Colin  Campbell,'  in  the 

King's  service. 
Campbell,  Captain, '  Barcaldine,'  or '  Green  Colin.' 


The.  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Waverley. 

St.  Ronati's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward  and 
Antte  oj  Geier stein. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

Kenilworth. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Old' Mortality. 

The  Surgeons  Daughter. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Talisman. 

Waverley. 
The  Antiquary. 

The  Highland  Widow. 
Old  Mortality. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Redgaunllet. 

The  Highland  Widow. 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Campo  Basso,  the  Count  of,  one  of  the  Duke  of 
Burgundy's  oflScers. 

Cantacuzene,  Michael,  the  emperor's  grand  sewer. 

Cantrips,  Mrs.,  a  former  friend  of  Nanty  Ewart. 

Cantrips,  Jessie,  her  daughter,  betrayed  by  Nanty. 

Capstern,  Captain,  commander  of  an  East  India- 
man. 

Caradoc  of  Menwygent,  Prince  Gwenwyn's 
younger  bard. 

Carefor't,  Mrs.,  Major  Bellenden's  housekeeper. 

Carey,  Patrick,  the  poet,  brother  of  Lord  Falk- 
land. 

Cargill,  the  Rev.  Josiah,  the  minister  of  St. 
Ronan's. 

Carlcton,  Captain,  an  ofBcer  in  the  guards. 

Caroline,  Queen-Consort  of  George  the  Second. 

Carrol,  the  deputy  usher  at  Kenilworth  Castle. 

Carstogie,  the  Laird  of,  a  'Queen's  man.' 

Caspar,  the  Baron  of  Arnheim's  master  of  the 
horse. 

Castle- Cuddy,  Lord,  one  of  Captain  Craigengelt's 
patrons. 

Castor,  Stephanos,  the  wrestler. 

Catherine,  Queen-Consort  of  Charles  the  Second. 

Catherine  of  Newport,  the  lady  of  Julian  Avene!. 

Cathleen,  one  of  Flora  Mac-Ivor's  attendants. 

Caxon,  Jacob,  the  Antiquary's  hairdresser. 

Caxon,  Jenny,  his  daughter,  a  milliner. 

Cedric  of  Rotherwood,  or  Cedric  the  Saxon. 

Chamberlain,  Matthew,  a  tapster,  old  Roger 
Raine's  successor. 

Champagne,  Henry,  Earl  of,  a  crusader. 

Charegite  assassin,  the,  disguised  as  a  Turkish 
marabout  or  enthusiast. 

Charles,  Prince  of  Wales,  'Baby  Charles,'  son  of 
James  the  First. 

Charles  the  Second,  King  of  England. 

Charles  Edward,  the  Chevalier. 
Charles  the  Bold,  Duke  of  Burgundy. 
Chariot,  a  messenger  from  Liege  to  King  Louis. 
Charteris,  Sir  Patrick,  of  Kinfauns,  provost  of 

Perth. 
Chattanach,  MacGillie,  chief  of  the  Clan  Chattan. 
Chatterly,  Rev.  Simon,  'the  man  of  religion'  at 

the  Spa. 
Chaubert,  Monsieur,  Master  Chiffinch's  cook. 
Cheync,  Reginald,  father  of  Elspeth  Murklebackit. 
Chiffinch,    Master    Thomas,    aliax    Will    Smith, 

Charles  the  Second's  private  emissary. 
ChifBnch,  Kate,  his  mistress. 
Children  of  the  Mist,  a  wild  race  of  Highlanders. 

326 


Quenlin  Durward  and 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Redgaunllel. 
Redgaunllel. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Betrothed. 
Old  Mortality. 

Woodstock. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
Kenilworth. 
The  Abbot. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Monastery. 
Waverley. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
Ivanhoe. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Talisman. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Woodstock  and  Peveril  of 

the  Peak. 
Redgauntlet. 
Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Antiquary. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Chirnside,  Luckie,  the  poulterer  at  Wolf's  Hope 

village. 
Cholmondley  of  Vale  Royal,   a  friend  of  the 

Countess  of  Derby. 
Christal,  Martin,  a  broker  and  appraiser. 
Christian,  Edward,  alias  Richard  Ganlesse,  alias 

Simon  Canter,  father  of  Fenella. 
Christian,  William,  his  brother,  shot  for  insurrec- 
tion. 
Christian,  Dame,  William's  widow. 
Christie  of  the  Clinthill,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's 

retainers. 
Christie,  John,  the  ship-chandler  at  Paul's  Wharf. 
Christie,  Dame  Nelly,  his  pretty  wife,  carried  off 

by  Lord  Dalgarno. 
Cicipici,  Julia  Mannering's  Italian  teacher. 
Clarence,  George,  Duke  of,  brother  of  Edward  the 

Fourth. 
Clarendon,  the  Earl  of,  lord  chancellor  to  Charles 

the  Second. 
Claverhouse,  see  Grahame,  John. 
Clayhudgeons,  John,  the  man  who  used  the  're- 
mains '  of  the  Bothwells  for  top-dressing. 
Clegg,  Holdfast,  the  Puritan  mill-wright. 
Cleishbotham,  Jedediah,  schoolmaster  and  parish 

clerk  of  Gandercleugh. 
Clement,  one  of  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Boeuf's 

attendants. 
Clement,  Father,  a  Carmelite. 
Cleveland,  Duchess  of,  one  of  Charles  the  Second's 

mistresses. 
Cleveland,  Captain  Clement,  'The  Pirate,'  son  of 

the  elder  Vaughan  and  Ulla  Troil,  in  love  with 

Minna  Troil. 
Clifford,  Henry,  Lord,  an  English  general. 
Clink,  Jem,  the  turnkey  at  Newgate. 
Clinkscale,  see  Yellowley,  Barbara. 
Clippurse,  Lawyer,  Sir  Everard  Waverley's  lawyer. 
Clutterbuck,  Cuthbert,  the  imaginary  editor. 

Cobb,  Ephraim,  in  Cromwell's  troop. 
Cockbum,  the  landlord  of  the  George  Inn. 
Coflfinkey,  Captain,  who  taught  Nicol  Jarvie  to 

make  brandy-punch. 
Coleby,  Major,  a  warder  of  the  Tower  of  London. 
Colepepper  or  PeppercuU,  Captain,  the  Alsatian 

bully. 
Colkitto,  Young,  or  Alaster  M'Donald,  a  Highland 

chief. 
Collier,  Jem,  a  smuggler. 
Colvin,  Henry,  one  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

oflacers. 


The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 
Guy  Mannering. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Woodstock. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir' 

ror. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak, 

Tales  of  My  Landlord. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


The  Pirate. 
Castle  Dangerous. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Waverley. 

The  Monastery  and  The 

Abbot. 
Woodstock. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Rob  Roy. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Redgauntlet. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 


327 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Comines,  Philip  des,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

favourite  minister. 
Comnenus,  Alexius,  the  Emperor  of  Greece. 
Comnena,  Anna,  his  daughter,  the  historian. 
Conachar,  Glover's  Highland  apprentice,  in  love 

with  Catharine. 
Conrade,  Marquis  of  Montserrat,  a  crusader. 
Contay,  le  Sieur  de,  one  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

officers. 
Coolie,  Captain,  in  the  East  India  Company's 

service. 
Cope,  Sir  John,  one  of  King  George's  generals. 
Copely,  Sir  Thomas,  in  attendance  on  the  Earl  of 

Leicester. 
Cordery,  Mr.,  tutor  to  Henry  Ashton. 
Cormack,  Donald,  a  Highland  robber  chief. 
Corsand,  Mr.,  a  magistrate  at  the  examination  of 

Hatteraick. 
Corydon,  the  shoemaker. 
Couci,  Ingelram  de. 

Coxe,  Captain,  one  of  the  masquers  at  Kenilworth. 
Crabtree,  Mr.,  a  gardener  at  Fairport. 
Crackenthorp,  Father,  the  publican. 
Crackenthorp,  Dolly,  his  daughter. 
Craigdallie,  Adam,  the  eldest  bailie  of  Perth. 
Craigengelt,  Captain,  an  adventurer,  Bucklaw's 

companion. 
Craig-in-Peril,  a  name  assumed  by  Pate  Maxwell. 
Cramp,  Corporal,  with  Captain  Thornton. 
Cranboume,  Sir  Jasper,  a  friend  of  Sir  Geoffrey 

Peveril. 
Crane,  Dame  Alison,  mistress  of  the  Crane  Inn  at 

Marlborough. 
Crane,  Gaffer,  her  spouse. 
Crank,   Dame,   the  papist  laundress  at  Marl- 
borough. 
Craon,  le  Sieur  de,  one  of  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

officers. 
Crawford,  Lindsay,  Earl  of,  a  young  Scottish  noble. 
Crawford,  Lord,  captain  of  the  Scottish  Guard. 
Crevecceur,  the  Count  of,  the  Duke  of  Burgundy's 

envoy  to  France. 
Crevecceur,  the  Countess  of. 
Croftangry,  Mr.  Chrystal,  the  imaginary  editor. 
Crofts,   Master,  whom  Sir  Geoffrey  Hudson,  the 

dwarf,  killed  in  a  duel. 
Cromwell,  Oliver. 
Crookshank,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 
Crosbie,  Mr.  William,  provost  of  Dumfries,  a 

friend  of  Mr.  Fairford. 
Crosbie,  Mrs.,  a  cousin  of  the  Redgauntlets. 
Crossbite,  Mr.,  a  banister. 


Quentin  Durward. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Talisman. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Pirate. 

Waverley. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Anne  of  Geierstein, 

Kenilworth. 

The  Antiquary. 

Redgaimtlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Redgauntlet. 
Rob  Roy. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Kenilworth. 
Kenilworth. 

Kenilworth. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward. 
Chronicles  of  (he  CanongaU> 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Woodstock. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntiet. 


I 


328 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Crossmyloof,  Mr.,  the  lawyer,  a  round-spun  Pres- 
byterian. 
Croye,  Isabelle,  Countess  of,  first  disguised  as 

Jacqueline,    afterwards    married    to    Quentin 

Durward. 
Croye,  the  Countess  Hameline  of,  her  aunt. 
Croye,  Monseigneur  de  la,  one  of  the  Duke  of 

Burgundy's  officers. 
Cruickshanks,  Ebenezer,  landlord  of  the  Golden 

Candlestick  Inn. 
Cuddie,  or  Cuthbert,  Headrigg. 
Culbertfield,  Jonas,  son  of  Sir  Everard  Waverley's 

steward. 
Culloch,  Sawney,  a  pedlar. 
Cumberland,  the  Duke  of,  commander  in  chief  of 

the  King's  forces. 
Cumberland,  the  Sheriff  of. 
Cunningham,  Archie,  one  of  the  Scottish  Guard. 
Cuthbert,  one  of  Henry  Smith's  men. 
Cyprian,   Brother,   a  Dominican  monk  at  the 

monastery. 

Dabby,  Mrs.,  wife  of  the  Worshipful  Mr.  Deputy 
Dabby  of  Farringdon  Without. 

D'Acunha,  Teresa,  Lady  Glenallan's  waiting- 
woman. 

Dain,  Oliver,  King  Louis'  barber  and  favourite. 

Dalgamo,  Lord  Malcolm,  a  profligate  young  noble- 
man. 

Dalgetty,  Captain,  afterward  Sir  Dugald,  in 
Montrose's  army. 

Dalton,  Mrs.,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Staunton's  house- 
keeper. 

Dalzell,  General  Thomas,  in  the  royal  army. 

Damahoy,  Miss  Grizel,  an  ancient  seamstress. 

Damian,  an  esquire  attending  on  the  Grand 
Master  of  the  Templars. 

Damiotti,  Dr.  Baptista,  the  Paduan  quack. 

Dan  of  the  Howlethirst. 

Dangerfield,   Captain,   a  hired   witness  to  the 

Popish  Plot. 
Dannischemend,  the  Persian  sorcerer. 
Darnley,  Lord,  Queen  Mary's  husband. 
D'Avenant,  Will,  a  supposed  descendant  from 

Shakespeare. 
Davie  of  the  Stenhouse,  a  friend  of  Hobbie  Elliot. 
Davies,  John,  the  Quaker's  old  fisherman. 
Dawfyd,  'the  one-eyed,'  a  robber  chief. 
Day,   Ferquhard,   the  absentee  from  the  Clan 

Chattan  ranks  at  the  conflict. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 


Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Waverley. 
Old  Mortality. 

Waverley. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Waverley. 

The  Abbot. 

Quentin  Durward. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

The  Antiquary. 
Quentin  Durward. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Ivanhoe. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

The  Monastery  and  The 
Abbot. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Anne  of  Geier  stein. 
The  Abbot. 

Woodstock. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Redgaunllet. 
The  Betrothed. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 


329 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Deans,  Douce  Davie,  the  cowfeeder  at  Edinburgh. 
Deans,   Jeanie,   his  eldest  daughter,  afterwards 

married  to  Reuben  Butler. 
Deans,  Mrs.  Rebecca,  his  second  wife. 
Deans,  EflBe  or  Euphemia,  their  daughter,  after- 
wards married  to  Sir  George  Staunton. 
Debbitch,   Deborah,  the  gouvernante  at  Lady 

Peveril's. 
Deilbelicket,  a  friend  of  Barbara  Clinkscale. 
Delaserre,  Captain,  a  friend  of  Harry  Bertram's. 
Demetrius,  a  citizen. 

Dennet,  an  old  peasant  at  the  Lists  of  Templestowe. 
Dennison,  Jenny,  Edith  Bellenden's  attendant, 

afterwards  married  to  Cuddie  Headrigg. 
Derby,  Countess  of,  and  Queen  of  Man,  Charlotte 

de  la  Tremouille. 
Derby,  Philip,  Earl  of,  her  son. 
Derricii,  Tom,  quartermaster  of  the  pirate's  vessel. 
Desborough,  Colonel,  one  of  the  parliamentary 

commissioners. 
Devorgoil,  Lady  Jean,  a  friend  of  the  Hazlewoods. 
Dhu,  Mhich-Connel,  or  M'llduy,  a  Highland  chief. 
Dibble,  Davie,  the  gardener  at  Monkbarns. 
Dick,  the  ostler  at  the  Seven  Stars  Inn,  York. 
Dick,  'the  Devil's  Dick  of  Hellgarth.' 
Dick  of  the  Dingle,  a  friend  of  Hobbie  Elliot. 
Dick,  Sir  William,  a  zealous  Covenanter. 
Dickens,  Dame  Martha,  housekeeper  for  Major 

Bridgenorth. 
Dickson,  Thomas,  the  farmer  at  Douglas  Dale. 
Dickson,  Charles,  his  son,  killed  in  the  church. 
Digges,  Miss  Maria,  a  friend  of  Lady  Penelope 

Penfeather. 
Diggory,  Father,  one  of  the  monks  at  St.  Botolph's 

Priory. 
Dijon,  the  Mayor  of. 

Dinah,  the  landlord's  daughter  at  the  Spa. 
Dingwall,  Davie,  the  attorney  at  Wolf's  Hope 

village. 
Dingwell,  one  of  Henry  Smith's  men. 
Dinmont,  Dandie  or  Andrew,  a  store  farmer  at 

Charlie's  Hope. 
Dinmont,  Ailie,  his  wife. 

Diogenes,  the  negro  slave  of  the  cynic  philosopher. 
Disinherited  Knight,  the,  see  VMlfred. 
Ditchley,  Gaffer,  one  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's 

miners. 
Ditton.  Thomas,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Staunton's  footman. 
Dixon,  Mr.  Richard  Vere's  servant. 
Doboobie,  Dr.  Demetrius,  chemist  and  astrologer. 
Dods,  Meg,  landlady  of  the  Cleikum  Inn  at  St. 

Ronan's  Old  Town. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Pirate. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Ivanhoe. 

Old  Mortality. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  PiraU. 

Woodstock. 

Guy  Mannering. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Castle  Dangerous. 
Castle  Dangerous. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Ivanhoe. 

A  nne  of  Geierstein. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 


Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Kenilworlh. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 


330 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Dogget,  the  warder  at  the  castle  of  Garde  Dolou- 

reuse. 
Donacha  dhu  na  Dunaigh,  the  Highland   robber 

near  Roseneath. 
Donald,  an  attendant  of  the  M'Aulays. 
Donald,  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  gamekeeper  at 

Roseneath. 
Donnerhugel,  Rudolph,  one  of  the  Swiss  deputies, 

a  cousin  of  the  Biedermans. 
Donnerhugel,  Theodore,  his  uncle,  page  to  the 

former  Baron  of  Arnheim. 
Doomster,  the. 

Dorcas,  Squire  Ingoldsby's  servant. 
Dorcas,  an  old  domestic  at  Cumnor  Place. 
Dorothy,  old,  the  Glover's  housekeeper. 
Dorothy,  the  old  miser's  charwoman. 
Douban,  the  Emperor  Alexius's  physician. 
Doublefee,  Jacob,   the  Duke  of  Buckingham's 

money-lender. 
Dougal,  turnkey  at  Glasgow  Tolbooth,  an  adherent 

of  Roy  Rob. 
Douglas,  Sir  James,  'the  Black  Douglas.' 
Douglas,  William  the  Hardy,  father  of  Sir  James. 
Douglas,  Archibald,  Earl  of. 
Douglas,    Marjory,    his   daughter.    Duchess   of 

Rothesay. 
Douglas,   George,   nephew  of  the  regent,   and 

devoted  to  Queen  Mary. 
Dousterswivel,  Herman,  a  German  schemer. 
Dowlas,  Dame,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  house- 
keeper. 
Driver,  Mr.  Pleydell's  clerk. 
Dronsdaughter,  Tronda,  the  Yellowleys'  old  serv- 
ing woman. 
Drudgeit,  Peter,  Lord  Bladderskate's  clerk. 
Drummond,  Lord,  an  ally  of  the  Earl  of  Douglas. 
Dryasdust,  Dr.,  a  literary  friend  of  the  Antiquary. 
Drj'fesdale,  Jasper,  the  old  steward  at  Lochleven 

Castle. 
Dubourg,  Monsieur,  a  merchant  at  Bordeaux. 
Dubourg,  Clement,  his  nephew,  a  clerk  of  Mr. 

Osbaldistone,  sen. 
Duchran,  the  Laird  of,  a  friend  of  Baron  Brad- 

wardine. 
Dudley,  a  young  artist,  a  friend  of  Harry  Bertram. 
Duff,    Jamie,    the    idiot    boy,    attending    Mrs. 

Bertram's  funeral. 
Dumbiedikes,  the  old  Laird  of. 
Dumbiedikes,  the  young  Laird  of,  in  love  with 

Jeanie  Deans. 
Dummerar,  Rev.  Dr.,  a  friend  of  Sir  Geoffrey 

Peveril.  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


The  Betrothed. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

.Anne  of  Geier stein, 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Redgauntlet. 

Kenilworlh. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Rob  Roy. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Abbot. 
The  Antiquary. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Pirate. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Abbot. 
Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Waverley. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 


331 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Dumtoustie,  Mr.  Daniel,  a  young  barrister. 

Dunbar  and  March,  George,  Earl  of. 

^)unbar,  Elizabeth,  his  daughter,  betrothed  to 
the  Duke  of  Rothesay. 

bunois,  the  Count  de. 

Dunover,  Mr.  Hardie's  one  and  only  client. 

Dunter,  a  journeyman  of  Harry  Gow. 

Duroch,  Duncan,  a  follower  of  Donald  Bean  Lean 

Durward,  Quentin,  a  young  archer  of  the  Scottish 
Guard,  in  love  with  Isabelle  de  Croye. 

Dutton,  Mrs.  Dolly,  the  Duke  of  Argyle's  dairy- 
maid. 

Dwining,  Henbane,  the  pottingar  or  apothecary. 


Redgauntlet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Quentin  Durward. 
The  Heart  of  Midhthian. 
The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 
Waverley. 

Quentin  Dunvard  and 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 


Earnscliff,  Patrick,  the  young  Laird  of. 

Eberson,  Carl,  William  de  la  Marck's  young  son. 

Ederic,  the  forester. 

Edgar,  an  attendant  on  the  Prince  of  Scotland. 

Edith,  the  Lady,  mother  of  Athelstane. 

Edric,  a  domestic  at  Hereward's  barracks. 

Edward,  brother  to  Hereward,  the  Varangian  guard. 

Edward  IV,  King  of  England. 

Einion,  Father,  chaplain  to  the  Welsh  prince. 

Eleanor,  Queen  Consort  of  Henry  IL 

Elgitha,  a  female  attendant  at  Rotherwood. 

Elizabeth,  Queen  of  England. 

Ellangowan,  the  Laird  of,  see  Bertram,  Godfrey. 

Ellesmere,  Mistress,  Lady  Peveril's  head  domestic. 

ElUeslaw,  the  Laird  of.  see  Vere,  Richard. 

Elliot,   Halbert  or  Hobbie,  the  farmer  at  the 

Heugh-Foot. 
Elliot,  Mrs.,  his  grandmother. 
Elliot,  John  and  Harrj',  his  brothers. 
Elliot,  Lilias,  Jean,  and  Annot,  his  sisters. 
Elshender  the  Recluse,  or  Canny  Elshie. 
Elspeth  of  the  Craigbumfoot,  the  old  fisherman's 

mother,  formerly  servant  to  the  Countess  of 

Glenallan. 
Elspeth,  Dinmont's  old  servant. 
Empson,  Master,  Charles  the  Second's  flageolet 

player. 
Engeibrecht,  one  of  the  Varangian  guards. 
Engelred,  squire  to  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Bceuf, 
Engelred,  Bertha's  father. 

Enguerrand,  brother  to  the  Marquis  of  Montserrat. 
Eppie,  one  of  the  Rev.  Josiah  Cargill's  servants. 
Epps,  Mr.  Fairford's  cook. 
Erceldoun,  Thomas  of,  or  Thomas  the  Rhymer. 
Erickson,  Sweyn,  a  fisherman  at  Jarlshof. 
Erland,  the  father  of  Noma  of  the  Fitful  Head. 
Ermengarde,  Lady  of  Baldringham. 
Ernest  the  Apulian,  page  to  Prince  Tancred. 


The  Black  Dwarf. 

Quentin  Durward. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Ivanhoe. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Anne  of  Geierstein, 

The  Betrothed. 

Woodstock. 

Ivanhoe. 

Kenilworth. 

Peveril  of  the  Peat. 


The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 


The  A  ntiquary. 
Guy  Manner  in  g. 

Pereril  of  the  Peak. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Ivanhoe. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Talisman. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Betrothed. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 


332 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Errol,  Gilbert,  Earl  of,  lord  high  constable  of 

Scotland. 
Erskine,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  minister  of  Grey  Friar's 

Church,  Edinburgh. 
Esdale,  Mr.,  a  surgeon  at  Madras. 
Essex,  the  Earl  of,  lord  high  constable  of  England. 
Etherington,  Earl  of,  fathsr  of  Tyrrel  and  Bulmer. 
Etherington,  the  titular  Earl  of,  Valentine  Bulmer. 
Eustace,  one  of  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Bceuf's 

attendants. 
Eustace,  Father,  sub-prior  and  afterwards  abbot 

of  St.  Mary's. 
Eva,  daughter  of  'Torquil  of  the  Oak,*  betrothed 

to  Ferquhard  Day. 
Evan  Dhu  of  Lochiel. 
Evan  Dhu  Maccombich,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's  foster 

brother. 
Evandale,  Lord,  William  Maxwell,  in  the  royal 

army,  a  suitor  of  Edith  Beilenden. 
Evans,  Master,  King  Charles  the  First's  giant 

porter. 
Everard,   Colonel  Markham,  of  the  Common- 
wealth party. 
Everard,  Master,  his  father. 
Everett,  Master,  a  hired  witness  of  the  Popish 

Plot. 
Eviot,  Sir  John  Ramorny's  page. 
Ewan  of  Brigglands,  the  soldier  who  set  Rob  Roy 

free. 
Ewart,  Nanty  or  Anthony,  the  smuggler  captain. 

Faa,  Gabriel,  Meg  Merrilies's  nephew,  the  hunts- 
man at  Liddesdale. 

Faggot,  Master  Nicholas,  Mr.  Justice  Foxley's 
clerk. 

Fairbrother,  Mr.,  counsel  for  Effie  Deans. 

Fairfax,  Thomas,  Lord,  the  Duchess  of  Bucking- 
ham's father. 

Fairford,  Alan,  a  young  barrister,  a  friend  of 
Darsie  Latimer. 

Fairford,  Mr.  Alexander  or  Saunders,  his  father, 
a  lawyer. 

Fairford,  Peter,  Alan's  cousin. 

Fairscribe,  Mr.,  a  solicitor,  friend  of  Mr.  Croft- 
angry. 

Fairscribe,  Katie,  Mr.  Croftangry's  'little  siren.' 

Fairscrievc,  Mr.,  the  magistrate's  clerk. 

Fairservice,  Andrew,  the  gardener  at  Osbaldistone 
Hall. 

Falconer,  Mr.,  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple,  a 
friend  of  Baron  Bradwardine. 

Falconer,  Major,  Lady  Bothwell's  brother. 


The  Pair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Ivanhoe. 

Si.  Ronan's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Monastery  and  The 
Abbot. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Waverley. 

Old  Mortality. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Woodstock. 
Woodstock. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Rob  Roy. 
Redgauntlet. 


Guy  Mannering. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 

Chronicles  of  the  Canongale. 
Chronicles  of  the  Canongale. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Rob  Roy. 

Waverley. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mirror* 


333 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Fatsldes,  Father,  the  priest  whom  Dalgetty  con- 
sulted. 
Faw,  Tibbie,  the  ostler's  wife,  in  Wandering  Willie's 

tale. 
Fea,  Euphane,  the  old  Udaller's  housekeeper. 
Featherhead,   John,   Esq.,   an  opponent  of  Sir 

Thomas  Kittlecourt. 
Fenella,  the  deaf  and  dumb  girl,  the  Countess  of 

Derby's  attendant,  alias  Zarah,  daughter  of 

Edward  Christian. 
Ferrand  de  Vaudemont,  Duke  of  Lorraine. 
Finlayson,  Luckie,  landlady  of  a  tavern  in  the 

Cowgate. 
Finniston,    Luckie,   a   tenant   of   the   Laird   of 

Gudgeonford. 
Finniston,  Duncan,  her  husband. 
Fisher,    Ralph,    Roland    Graeme's    assistant    at 

Avenel  Castle. 
Fitzurse,  Waldemar,  a  baron  following  Prince  John. 
Fitzurse,  Ahcia,  daughter  of  Waldemar. 
Flammock,  Wilkin,  the  Flemish  burgess  at  the 

Castle  of  Garde  Doloureuse. 
Flammock,  Rose,  or  Roschen,  his  daughter.  Lady 

Eveline's  attendant. 
Fleecebumpkin,  Master,  Mr.  Ireby's  bailiff. 
Fleming,  Archdeacon,  to  whom  old  Meg  Murdock- 

son  confessed. 
Fleming,  Lady  Marj',  one  of  Queen  Mary's  maids 

of  honour. 
Fleming,  Sir  Malcolm,  a  former  suitor  of  Lady 

Margaret  de  Hautlieu. 
Fletcher,  Dick,  one  of  the  pirates. 
Flibbertigibbet,  Dickie  Sludge. 
Flockhart,  Widow,  landlady  of  Mac-Tvor's  lodg- 
ings in  the  Canongate. 
Florise,  the  Lady,  one  of  Queen  Berengaria's 

attendants. 
Flyter,   Mrs.,   landlady  of  Frank's  lodgings  in 

Glasgow. 
Foljambe,    Lady,    a    former   owner   of    George 

Heriot's  house. 
Forester,  Sir  Philip,  a  libertine  knight. 

Forester,  Lady  Jemima,  his  wife. 

Foster,  Captain,  on  guard  at  Tully-Veolan  ruin. 

Foster,  the  English  champion. 

Foster,  Anthony,  or  Tony  Fire-the-Faggot,  the 

Earl  of  Leicester's  agent  at  Cumnor  Place. 
Foster,  Janet,  his  daughter. 
Foster,  Sir  John,  the  English  warden. 
Foxley,  Squire  Matthew,  a  magistrate. 


A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Redgauntlet. 
The  Pirate. 

Guy  Mannering. 


Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Abbot. 

Ivanhoe. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Betrothed. 
The  Two  Drovers, 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Abbot. 

Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Pirate. 
Kenilworth, 

Waverley. 

The  Talisman. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 

Waverley. 

The  Laird's  Jock. 

Kenilworth. 
Kenilworth. 
The  Monastery. 
Redgauntlet. 


334 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Francis,  Father,  a  Dominican  monk,  Catharine 

Glover's  confessor. 
Francis,  Father,  at  the  convent  at  Namur. 
Front-de-Boeuf,  Sir  Reginald,  one  of  the  knights 

challengers. 

Gaethroughwi't,  Gibby,  the  piper  of  Cupar. 

Gaita,  wife  of  Robert  Guiscard. 

Galbraith  of  Garschattachin,  Major  Duncan,  a 

mihtia  officer. 
Galeotti,  see  Martivalle. 
Gamelyn  de  Guardover,  Sir, 
Gandercleugh,  the  Laird  of. 
Ganlesse,  Richard,  a  name  assumed  by  Edward 

Christian. 
Gardener,  Richard,  the  Misses  Arthuret's  porter. 
Gardiner,  Colonel,  commander  of  Waverley's  regi- 
ment. 
Gatberal,  old,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  steward. 
Gatherill,  old.  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's  bailiff. 
Geddes,  Joshvia,  the  Quaker. 
Geddes,  Rachel,  his  sister. 
Geddes,  Philip,  their  grandfather. 
Geierstein,  Arnold,  Count  of,  Arnold  Biederman. 
Geierstein,  Count  Albert  of,  the  black  priest  of 

St.  Paul's. 
Geierstein,  Anne  of,  his  daughter,  'the  Maiden 

of  +ne  Mist.' 
Geierstein,  Count  Heinrich  of,  Count  Arnold's 

grandfather. 
Geierstein,  Count  Williewald  of,  Count  Arnold's 

father. 
Geislaer,  Peterkin,  one  of  the  insurgents  at  Liege. 
Gellatley,   Davie,   the  Baron  of   Bradwardine's 

idiot  servant. 
Gellatley,  Janet,  his  mother. 
Gemmells,  Luckie,  oneof  Edie  Ochiltree's  cronies. 
Genvil,  Ralph,  a  veteran  in  Hugo  de  Lacy's  troop. 
Geoffrey,  the  old  ostler  at  John  Mengs's  inn. 
Geraldin,  Lord,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Glenallan,  first 

as  William  Lovel. 
Geraldin,   Sir  Aymer  de,  an  ancestor  of  Lord 

Geraldin. 
Gerard,  Sir  Patrick  Charteris's  attendant. 
Gibbet,  Master,  Bletson's  secretary. 
Gibbie,  Goose,  a  half-witted  lad  in  Lady  Bellen- 

den's  service. 
Gibson,    Janet,    a    young    dependant    on    Mrs. 

Margaret  Bertram. 
Gilbert,  Sir  Patrick  Charteris's  butler. 
Gilbertscleugh,  cousin  to  Lady  Margaret  Bellenden. 
Giles,  Claud  Halcro's  serving  boy. 

335 


The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Qtientin  Durward. 

Ivanhoe. 

Waverley. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Antiquary, 
Old  Mortality. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Redgauntlet. 

Waverley. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

A  nne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Waverley. 
Waverley. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Betrothed. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Woodstock. 

Old  Mortality. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Pirate. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Giles,  a  warder  of  the  tower. 

Giles,  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Boeuf's  jailer, 

Giles,  Will,  the  cooper's  apprentice. 

GilfiUan,  Habakkuk,  or  'Gifted  Gilfillan,'  a  Cam- 
eronian  officer  and  enthusiast. 

Gillespie  Grumach,  the  Marquis  of  Argyle. 

Gillian,  Dame,  the  Lady  Eveline's  tirewoman. 

Gilliewhackit,  married  to  Lady  Cramfeezer. 

Gingham,  Mrs.,  Lady  Binks's  attendant. 

Girder,  Gibbie,  the  cooper  at  Wolf's  Hope  village. 

Girder,  Jean,  his  wife. 

Girnington,  Lady,  Bucklaw's  grand-aunt. 

Gladsmoor,  Mr.,  the  Earl  of  Glenallan's  almoner. 

Glasgow,  the  bishop  of. 

Glass,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 

Glass,    Mrs.,    the   tobacconist,    Jeanie   Deans's 
friend  in  London. 

Glenallan,  the  Great  Earl  of. 

Glenallan,  Joscelind,  Dowager  Countess  of. 

Glenallan,  the  Earl  of,  her  son. 

Glendale,  Sir  Richard,  a  conspirator  with  Red- 
gauntlet. 

Glendinning,  or  Brydone,  Elspeth,  the  widow  of 
Simon  Glendinning. 

Glendinning,  Halbert  and  Edward,  her  sons. 

Glendinning,  Sir  Halbert,  the  Knight  of  Avenel. 
Glenprosing,  Lady,  a  neighbour  of  Yellowley's 

father. 
Glenvarloch,  Lord,  see  Olifaunt. 
Glossin,    Gilbert,    a    lawyer,    purchaser   of   the 

EJlangowan  estate. 
Gloucester,   Henry,   Duke  of,  brother  of  King 

Charles  the  Second. 
Gloucester,  Richard,  Duke  of,  brother  of   King 

Edward  the  Fourth. 
Gloucester,    the   Earl   of,   in   King   Henry   the 

Second's  court. 
Glover,  Simon,  the  old  glover  of  Perth. 
Glover,  Catharine,  his  daughter,  'the  Fair  Maid 

of  Perth.' 
Glover,  Hans,  Gertrude  Pavilion's  bachelor. 
Glowrowrum,  Lady,  a  friend  of  Magnus  Troil. 
Godfrey  of  Bouillon,  the  Crusader. 
Godfrey,  Sir  Edmondsbury,  a  magistrate  killed  by 

the  Papists. 
Gofife,  Captain,  of  the  pirate  vessel. 
Goldiebirds,    Messrs.,    creditors   of    Sir   Arthur 

Wardour. 
Goldthred,  Laurence,  the  mercer  near  Cumnor 

Place. 
Goodriche,  Mr.,  a  Catholic  priest  at  Middlemas. 

33(> 


The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 

Waverley. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Betrothed. 

Waverley. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Antiquary. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary, 

RedgaunUet. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Monastery  and  The 

Abbot. 
The  Abbot. 

The  Pirate. 


Guy  Mannering. 

Woodstock. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Quenlin  Durward. 
The  Pirate. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Pevcril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Antiquary. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Goodsire,  Johnnie,  the  weaver  near  Charlie's  Hope 
farm. 

Gordon,  Rev.  Mr.,  chaplain  in  Cromwell's  troop. 

Gordon,  Francis,  a  drunken  trooper. 

Gosling,  Giles,  landlord  of  the  Black  Bear  Inn  at 
Cumnor. 

Gosling,  Cicely,  his  daughter. 

Gourlay,  Ailshie,  a  privileged  fool  or  jester. 

Gourlay,  Ailsie,  an  old  sibyl. 

Gow,  Henry,  'Gow  Chrom,'  the  armourer. 

Gow,  Neil,  the  fiddler,  and  his  son  Nathaniel. 

Graeme,  Roland,  the  heir  of  Avenel. 

Graeme,  Magdalen,  his  grandmother.  Mother  Nic- 
neven  at  Kinross. 

Greeme,  William,  the  Red  Reiver  at  Westbumflat. 

Grasme,  Mrs.,  his  mother,  the  old  hag. 

Grahame,  Colonel  John,  of  Claverhouse,  after- 
wards the  Viscount  of  Dundee. 

Grahame,  Cornet  Richard,  his  nephew. 

Graneangowl,  Rev.  Mr.,  Sir  Duncan  Campbell's 
chaplain. 

Grantmesnil,  Sir  Hugh  de,  one  of  the  knights 
challengers. 

Gratian,  Father,  the  begging  friar  at  John  Mengs's 
inn. 

Gray,  old  Alice,  a  former  servant  of  the  Ravens- 
woods. 

Gray,  Dr.  Gideon,  the  village  doctor  at  Middlemas. 

Gray,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 

Gray,  Menie,  their  daughter. 

Greenhalgh,  the  Earl  of  Derby's  messenger. 

Greenhorn,  Gilbert,  an  attorney. 

Greenhorn,  Girnigo,  his  father. 

Greenleaf,  Gilbert,  the  old  archer  at  Douglas  Castle. 

Gregor,  Dougal,  turnkey  at  the  Edinburgh  Tol- 
booth. 

Gregory,  the  armourer  in  Lochleven  Castle. 

Gregson,  Widow,  Darsie  Latimer's  landlady  at 
Shepherd's  Bush. 

Gregson,  Gilbert,  Father  Buonaventure's  mes- 
senger. 

Grieve,  Jockey,  landlord  of  an  alehouse  near 
Charlie's  Hope. 

Griffin,  Allan,  landlord  of  the  Griffin  Inn  at  Perth. 

Griffiths,  the  Earl  of  Derby's  old  steward. 

Griffiths,  Samuel,  Redgauntlet's  agent  in  London. 

Grimesby,  Gaffer,  an  old  farmer  at  Marlborough. 

Grinderson,  Gabriel,  Mr.  Greenhorn's  partner. 

Grist,  Goodman,  the  miller,  a  friend  of  the  smug- 
glers. 

Grizzel,  the  chamber-maid  at  the  Kippletringan 


Guy  Mannering. 

Woodstock. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Kenilworlk. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Pair  Maid  of  Perth. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Ivanhoe. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

The  Bride  of  LammermoH, 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter, 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
Castle  Dangerous. 

Waverley, 
The  Abbot. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Redgauntlet. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Antiquary. 

Redgauntlet. 

Guy  Mannering. 


45 


337 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Grizzie,  Mrs.  Saddletree's  maid-servant. 

Grizzy,oneof  the  Rev.  JosiahCargill's  servants. 

Groatsettar,  Miss  Clara  and  Miss  Maddie,  nieces 
of  the  old  Lady  Glowrowrum. 

Grumball,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  a  conspirator  with  Red- 
gauntlet. 

Guarine,  Philip,  Sir  Hugo  de  Lacy's  squire. 

Gudyill,  John,  Lady  Bellenden's  butler. 

Gueldres,  Adolphus,  Duke  of. 

Guenevra,  the  dwarf  servant  at  the  Hermit  of 
Engaddi's  cell. 

Gurth,  the  swineherd  at  Rotherwood. 

Guthrie,  John,  one  of  the  archers  of  the  Scottish 
Guard. 

Guyot,  Bertrand,  one  of  the  archers  of  the  Scottish 
Guard. 

Gwenwyn,  or  Gwenwynwen,  Prince  of  Powis  Land. 

Gwynn,  Nell,  one  of  Charles  the  Second's  mis- 
tresses. 

Haagen,  an  unwilling  follower  of  Montrose. 

Hackbum,  Simon  of,  a  friend  of  Hobbie  Elliot. 

Hadaway,  Jack,  a  former  neighbour  of  Nanty  Ewart, 

Hadoway,  Mrs.,  Level's  landlady  at  Fairport. 

Hagenbach,  Sir  Archibald  von,  the  Governor  of 
La  Ferette. 

Hakim,  El,  see  Saladin. 

Halcro.-Claud,  the  Udaller's  old  bard. 

Haldimund,  Sir  Ewes,  a  friend  of  Lord  Dalgamo. 

Halftext,  John,  a  curate. 

Halkit,  Mr.,  a  young  lawyer. 

Hall,  Sir  Christopher,  an  oflBcer  in  the  king's 
service. 

Halliday,  Tom,  a  private  in  the  royal  army. 

Hamet,  one  of  Sir  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert's  black 
slaves. 

Hamilton,  Lady  Emily,  sister  of  Lord  Evandale. 

Hammerlein,  Claus,  the  smith,  one  of  the  insur- 
gents at  Liege. 

Hammorgaw,  Mr.,  precentor  at  Glasgow. 

Hannah,  Mr.  Fairford's  housekeeper. 

Hannah,  Mr.  Bindloose's  housekeeper. 

Hans,  the  pious  ferryman  on  the  banks  of  the 
Rhine. 

Hansen,  Neil,  a  soldier  in  the  castle  of  Garde 
Doloureuse. 

Hanson,  Adrian,  a  Dutch  merchant,  killed  at 
Boston. 

Happer,  or  Hob,  the  miller  to  St.  Mary's  convent. 

Happer,  Mysie,  his  daughter,  afterwards  dis- 
guised as  a  page  with  Sir  Piercie  Shafton,  and 
at  last  married  to  him. 

338 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Pirate. 

RedgaurUlet. 
The  Betrothed. 
Old  Mortality. 
Quentin  Durward. 

The  Talisman. 

Ivanhoe. 

Quentin  Durward. 

Quentin  Durward. 
The  Betrothed. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Pirate. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Redgauntiet. 
The  Antiquary. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Old  Mortality. 

Ivanhoe. 
Old  Mortality. 

Quentin  Durward. 
Rob  Roy. 
Redgauntiet. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

The  Betrothed. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Monastery. 


The  Monastery. 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Harbothel,  Master  Fabian,  Sir  Aymer  de  Valence's 

squire. 
Hardie,  Mr.,  a  young  lawyer. 
Hardwicke,  Lord  Chancellor. 
Harpax,  the  centurion  in  the  Immortal  Guard. 
Harper,  Will,  page  to  Ludovic  Lesly. 
Harrison,  General,  one  of  the  parliamentary  com- 
missioners. 
Harrison,  Lady  Margaret  Bellenden's  steward. 
Harry,  Blind,  the  minstrel. 
Hartley,  Adam,  afterwards  Dr.  Hartley,  appren- 
tice to  Dr.  Gray. 
Hassan,  the  story-teller,  in  the  Arabian  physician's 

retinue. 
Hastie,  Robin,  the  smuggler  publican  at  Annan. 
Hatteraick,   Dirk,   alias  Jans  Jansen,  a  Dutch 

smuggler  captain. 
Hautlieu,    Sir  Artavan    de,  in   the  introduced 

story. 
Hautlieu,  the  Lady  Margaret  de,  aflSanced  to  Sir 

Malcolm  Fleming. 
Hawkins,  boatswain  of  the  pirate  vessel. 
Hay,  Colonel,  in  the  king's  service. 
Hay,  John,  the  fisherman  near  Ellangowan. 
Hayston,  Frank,  see  Bucklaw. 
Hazlewood,   Sir  Robert,  of  Hazlewood,  an  old 

baronet. 
Hazlewood,  Charles,  his  son,  in  love  with  Lucy 

Bertram. 
Headrigg,  Cuddie,  the  ploughman  at  Tillietudlem. 
Headrigg,  Judden,  his  father. 
Headrigg,  Mause,  his  mother. 
Heatherblutter,  John,  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine's 

gamekeeper. 
Heavysterne,  Rev.  Dr.,  a  learned  professor  from 

Utrecht. 
Hector  of  the  Mist,  an  outlaw,  killed  by  Allan 

M'Aulay. 
Hempsfield,  Jack,  one  of  Captain  Colepepper's 

companions. 
Henderson,  Elias,  the  chaplain  at  Lochleven  Castle. 
Henreich,  a  German  lanzknecht. 
Henrietta  Maria,  Queen-Consort  of  Charles  the 

First. 
Henry  the  Second,  King  of  England. 

Herbert,  Sir  William,  a  friend  of  Hugo  de  Lacy. 
Hereward,  one  of  the  Varangian  Guard. 
Heriot,  Master  George,  the  king's  goldsmith. 
Heriot,  Judith,  his  sister. 
Herman  of  Goodalricke,  Sir. 
Hermione,  the  beautiful  Persian  lady. 


Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
Count  Robert  oj  Paris. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Woodstock. 

Old  Mortality, 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Talisman. 
Redgauntlet. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Pirate. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality, 

Waverley. 

The  Antiquary. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  A  bbot. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Betrothed  and  The 

Talisman. 
The  Betrothed. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Ivanhoe. 
Anne  of  Geier stein. 


339 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Hermione,  Lady,  or  Lady  Erminia  Pauletti,  pri- 
vately married  to  Lord  Dalgarno. 
Heron,  Sir  George,  of  Chipchase,  an  officer  with 

Sir  John  Foster. 
Herries,  Lord,  attending  Queen  Mary  to  Dun- 

drennan. 
Herries,  Mr.,  of  Birrenswork,  see  Redgauntlet, 

Edward  Hugh. 
Hertford,  the  Marquis  of,  in  Charles  the  Second's 

court. 
Heskett,  Ralph,  landlord  of  the  village  ale-house. 
Heskett,  Dame,  his  wife. 
Hettly,  May,  an  old  servant  of  David  Deans. 
Heukbane,  Mrs.,  the  butcher's  wife,  a  friend  of 

Mrs.  Mailsetter. 
Hewit,   Godfrey   Bertram,   natural  son  of  Mr. 

Godfrey  Bertram. 
Higg,  'the  son  of  Snell,'  the  lame  witness  at  the 

trial  of  Rebecca. 
Highland  Widow,  the,  see  MacTavish,  Elspat. 
Hilarius,  Brother,  the  refectioner  at  St.  Mary's. 
Hildebrod,  Duke,  president  of  the  Alsatian  Club. 
Hillary,  Tom,  the  town-clerk's  apprentice,  after- 
wards Captain  Hillary. 
Hinchup,  Dame,  a  peasant  at  the  execution  of 

Meg  Murdockson. 
Hislop,  John,  the  old  carrier  of  St.  Ronan's. 
Hob  Miller,  of  Twyford,  one  of  the  insurgents. 
Hobbie  o'  Sorbietrees,  one  of  the  huntsmen  near 

Charlie's  Hope  farm. 
Hobbler,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  at  Ellieslaw  Castle,  one  of 

the  Jacobite  conspirators. 
Hochspringen,  the  young  Duke  of,  in  Donner- 

hugel's  narrative. 
Hodge,  one  of  Luke  Lundin's  bodyguard. 
Hodges,  John,  a  servant  of  Waverley. 
Hodges,  Joe,  Bertram's  landlord  by  the  lake  near 

Mervyn  Hall. 
Hodgeson,  GaEfer,  a  Puritan. 
Holdenough,  Master  Nehemiah,  the  Presbyterian 

preacher. 
Holdforth,  Master,  'the  afternoon's  lecturer'  of 

Saint  Antonlin's. 
Holiday,  Erasmus,  the  schoolmaster  in  the  Vale 

of  Whiteliorse 
Hookem,  Mr.,  Lawyer  Clippurse's  partner. 
Horsington,  a  groom  at  Ellieslaw  Castle. 
Horst,  Conrade,  one  of  the  insurgents  at  Liege." 
Hostler,  Jack,  of  Dame  Crane's  inn. 
Houghton,  Sergeant,  in  Waverley's  regiment. 
Howatson,  Luckie,  the  midwife  at  EUangowan. 
Howden,  Jock,  one  of  the  Black  Dwarf's  patients. 


The  Fortunes  oj  Nigel. 
The  Monastery, 
The  Abbot. 


Woodstock. 

The  Two  Drovers. 

The  Two  Drovers. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Antiquary. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
The  Betrothed. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Anne  of  Geierslein. 
The  Abbot. 
Waverley. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Woodstock. 

Kenilworth. 

Kcnilworlh. 

Waverley. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Quentin  Durward, 

Kenilworth. 

Waverley. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 


340 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Howden,  Mrs.,  the  saleswoman. 

Howie,  Jamie,  Malcolm  Bradwardine's  bailie. 

Howie,  Willie,  one  of  Edie  Ochiltree's  friends. 

Howlaglass,  Master,  a  preacher.  Justice  Maul- 
statute's  friend. 

Hubert,  an  archer  under  Sir  Philip  de  Malvoisin. 

Hudson,  Sir  Geoffrey,  the  celebrated  dwarf,  for- 
merly page  to  Queen  Henrietta  Maria. 

Hudson,  Tam,  a  gamekeeper. 

Hugh,  the  blacksmith,  of  Ringleburn,  a  friend  of 
Hobbie  Elliot. 

Hugh,  Count  of  Vermandois,  a  crusader. 

Hugonet,  Hugo,  the  Douglas  minstrel. 

Humgudgeon,  Corporal  Grace-be-here,  in  Crom- 
well's troop. 

Hundebert,  the  steward  at  Rotherwood. 

Hundwolf,  the  Lady  of  Baldringham's  steward. 

Hunsdon,  Lord,  one  of  the  Wardens  of  the 
Marches. 

Hunsdon,  Lord,  Queen  Elizabeth's  cousin. 

Huntingdon,  the  Earl  of,  at  Queen  Elizabeth's 
court. 

Huntingdon,  David,  Earl  of,  the  Prince  Royal  of 
Scotland. 

Huntinglen,  the  Earl  of,  an  old  Scottish  noble- 
man. 

Huntly,  the  Marquis  of,  in  the  king's  service. 

Hutcheon,  the  old  domestic  in  Wandering  Willie's 
tale. 

Hutcheon,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's  retainers. 

Hyder  All  Khan  Behauder,  the  Nawaub  of 
Mysore. 

Hymbercourt,  Baron  d',  one  of  the  Duke  of  Bur- 
gundy's officers. 

Hyndman,  Master,  usher  to  the  council-chamber 
at  Holy  rood. 

Ilderim,  see  Saladin. 

Ilderton,  Lucy,  Isabel  Vere's  cousin  and  confi- 
dante. 

Ilderton,  Nancy,  Miss  Vere's  '  timid '  cousin. 

Ingelram,  Abbot,  of  St.  Mary's. 

Inglewood,  Squire,  a  magistrate  near  Osbaldistone 
Hall. 

Inglis,  Frank,  a  corporal  in  the  royal  army. 

Ingoldsby,  Squire,  one  of  Redgauntlet's  names. 

Ireby,  Mr.,  a  country  squire. 

Irene,  the  Empress  of  Greece. 

Irwin,  Hannah,  Clara  Mowbray's  confidante. 

Isaac  of  York,  the  Jew. 

Isabelle,  Canoness  of  Triers. 

Ismail,  'the  infidel,'  one  of  the  Immortal  Guard. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

Waverley. 
The  A  ntiquary. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Ivanhoe. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris, 
Castle  Dangerous. 

Woodstock. 
Ivanhoe. 
The  Betrothed. 

The  Monastery. 
Kenilworth. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose, 

Redgauntlet. 
The  Monastery. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Quenlin  Durward, 

The  Abbot. 


The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Monastery. 

Rob  Roy. 
Old  Mortality. 
Redgauntlet. 
The  Two  Drovers. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Ivanhoe. 

Quenlin  Durward. 
Count  Robert  aS  Paris. 


341 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Ivanhoe,  Sir  Wilfred,  Knight  of,  King  Richard's 
favourite,  Cedric  of  Rotherwood's  disinherited 
son. 

Iverach,  or  Stewart,  Allan,  at  the  Clachan  of 
Aberfoil. 

Jabos,  Jock,  the  postilion  at  the  Kippletringan  inn. 
Jacqueline,  a  name  assumed  by  the  Countess  of 

Croye. 
James  I,  King  of  England. 
James,  Prince,  youngest  son  of  King  Robert  III. 
Jamieson,  Bet,  the  nurse  at  Dr.  Gray's. 
Janet,  the  Ramsays'  Scotch  laundress. 
Janet  of  Tomahourich,  Muhme. 
Jannekin,  Little,  apprentice  to  Henry  Smith. 
Jarvie,  Bailie  Nicol,  the  Glasgow  magistrate. 
Jasper,  the  old  ploughman  at  Glendearg  Tower. 
Jaup,  Alison,  an  old  woman  at  Middlemas  village. 
Jaup,  Saunders,  a  farmer  at  old  St.  Ronan's. 
Jehoiachim,  the  Quaker's  servant. 
Jekyl,  Captain  Harry,  confidential  friend  of  the 

Earl  of  Etherington. 
Jellicot,  Joan,  Jocelin's  old  dame. 
Jenkin,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's  retainers. 
Jenkins,  Jack,  one  of  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's 

men. 
Jenkins,  Jack,  one  of  the  pirate  crew. 
Jephson,  an  old  smuggler. 
Jeremy,  Master,  Lord  Saville's  head  domestic. 
Jerningham,  Master  Thomas,  the  Duke  of  Buck- 
ingham's gentleman. 
Jerome,  Father,  the  abbot  at  St.  Bride's  convent. 
Jervie,  Provost,  of  Fairport. 
Jessy,  Clara  Mowbray's  waiting-maid. 
Jeunesse,  La,  the  solitary  attendant  of  the  Marquis 

of  Hautlieu. 
Jezdegerd,    the    dreaded    opponent    of    Alexius 

Comnenus. 
Jim,  Reginald  Lowestoffe's  boy. 
Jin  Vin,  Jenkin  Vincent. 
Jinker,  Lieutenant   Jamie,  the    horse-dealer    at 

Doune. 
Joan,  one  of  the  Princesses  of  France,  affianced  to 

the  Duke  of  Orleans. 
Jobson,  Mr.  Joseph,  Squire  Inglcwood's  clerk. 
Jock  o'  Dawston  Cleugh,  a  neighbour  of  Dandy 

Dinmont. 
Jock,  Slounging,  one  of  Mac-Guffog  the  jailer's 

men. 
John  or  Jan,  one  of  Squire  Ingoldsby's  servants. 
John,  the  driver  of  the  Queensferry  diligence. 
John,  Prince,  son  of  King  Henry  II. 


Ivanhoe. 

Rob  Roy. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Quentin  Durward. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Two  Drovers. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Woodstock. 
The  Monastery. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Pirate. 
Redgauntlet. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Antiquary. 
St.  Ronan's  Well, 

Quentin  Durward. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Waverley. 

Quentin  Durward. 
Rob  Roy. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Redgauntlet. 
The  A  ntiquary. 
The  Betrothed. 


342 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


John,  Prince,  of  Anjou. 

John  o'  the  Girnell,  the  Jolly  Abbot. 

Johnstone,  Dick,  the  Devil's  Dick  of  Hellgarth. 

Johnstone,  Auld  Willie,  an  old  fisherman. 

Johnstone,  Peggy,  his  daughter. 

Joliffe,  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather's  footman. 

Joliffe,  Joceline,  the  under  keeper  of  Woodstock 
forest. 

Jonathan,  one  of  General  Harrison's  servants. 

Jonathan,  an  attendant  on  Lord  Saville. 

Jones,  Mrs.,  Lady  Penelope  Penfeather's  waiting 
woman. 

Jopson,  Jacob,  the  farmer  at  the  village  near  Clif- 
ton, who  sheltered  Edward  Waverley. 

Jopson,  Cicely,  his  daughter,  afterwards  married 
to  Ned  Williams. 

Jorworth-ap-Jevan,  Prince  Gwenwyn's  envoy. 

Josceline,  Sir,  an  English  knight,  a  crusader. 

Joseph,  the  old  gardener  at  Shaws  Castle. 

Kaimes,  Lord,  a  Scottish  judge. 

Keelavine,  Mr.,  the  painter  at  the  Spa  hotel. 

Keltie,  old,  the  innkeeper  near  Kinross. 

Kennedy,  Frank,  an  excise  officer  murdered  by  the 
smugglers. 

Kenneth,  Sir,  the  Knight  of  the  Leopard,  a  dis- 
guise assumed  by  David,  Earl  of  Huntingdon. 

Kenneth,  one  of  Sir  John  Ramorny's  followers. 

Kerneguy,  Louis,  a  name  assumed  by  Charles  II. 

Kettledrummle,  Gabriel,  a  Covenanter  preacher. 

Kilderkin,  Ned,  at  Greenwich. 

Kilian  of  Kersberg,  Sir  Archibald  von  Hagen- 
bach's  squire. 

Killancureit,  the  Laird  of,  see  Bullsegg. 

Kinfauns,  Baron  of,  see  Charteris. 

Kirk,  Mr.  John,  foreman  of  the  jury  that  tried 
Effie  Deans. 

Kittlecourt,  Sir  Thomas,  M.P.,  a  neighbour  of 
the  Laird  of  EUangowan. 

Knighton,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham's  groom. 

Knock,  Duncan,  Captain  of  Knockdunder. 

Knockwinnock,  Sybil,  mother  of  Malcolm  Mis- 
begot. 

Kyle,   David,  landlord  of  the   George  Inn  at 
Kennaquhair. 

Lacy,  Sir  Hugo  de,  the  constable  of  Chester,  a 

crusader. 
Lacy,  Damian  de,  his  nephew,  afterwards  married 

to  Lady  Eveline. 
Lacy,  Randal  de,  Sir  Hugo's  kinsman,  in  several 

disguises. 


Ivanhoe. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth, 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

St.  Ronan's  Wdl. 

Woodstock. 
Woodstock. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

St.  Ronan's  Wdl. 

Waverley. 

Waverley. 
The  Betrothed. 
The  Talisman. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Abbot. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Woodstock. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fortmies  of  Nigel. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Betrothed. 
The  Betrothed. 
The  Betrothed. 


343 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Laider,  Donald,  one  of  the  prisoners  at  Portan- 
ferry. 

Laird's  Jock,  the,  see  Armstrong,  John. 

Lambert,  General,  the  parliamentary  leader. 

Lambourne,  Michael,  a  retainer  of  the  Earl  of 
Leicester. 

Lambskin,  Mrs.  Alice,  companion  to  Mrs.  Baliol. 

Lamington,  a  follower  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril. 

Lamplugh,  Will,  a  smuggler. 

Landais,  Peter,  the  Duke  of  Bretagne's  favourite 
minister. 

Laneham,  Master  Robert,  clerk  of  the  council- 
chamber  door. 

Laneham,  Sibyl,  his  wife,  one  of  the  revellers  at 
Kenilworth  Castle. 

Langcale,  the  Laird  of,  a  leader  in  the  Covenanters' 
army. 

Langley,  Sir  Frederick,  a  suitor  of  Miss  Vere,  one 
of  the  Jacobite  conspirators. 

Langtale,  Mr.,  the  advocate. 

Lapraik,  Laurie,  Steenie  Steenson's  friend. 

Lascaris,  a  citizen. 

Latherum,  the  barber,  at  the  Black  Bear  Inn,  at 
Darlington. 

Latimer,  Darsie,  see  Redgauntlet. 

Latimer,  Mr.  Ralph,  Darsie  Latimer's  pretended 
father. 

Lauderdale,  Duke  of,  president  of  the  Scottish 
privy  council. 

Launcelot,  bard  to  the  Countess  Brenhilda's 
father. 

Laurence,  Tom,  alias  Tyburn  Tam,  a  highway- 
man. 

Lawford,  Mr.,  the  town  clerk  of  Middlemas. 

Lawson,  Sandie,  landlord  of  the  Spa  hotel. 

Le  Glorieux,  the  Duke's  jester. 

Lee,  Sir  Henry,  an  officer  in  attendance  at  Green- 
wich palace. 

Lee,  Sir  Henry,  ranger  of  Woodstock. 

Lee,  Alice,  his  daughter,  afterwards  married  to 
Markham  Everard. 

Lee,  Colonel  Albert,  his  son,  Charles  the  Second's 
friend. 

Lee,  Victor,  an  ancestor  of  Sir  Henry. 

Leicester,  Robert  Dudley,  Earl  of. 

Leicester,  the  Countess  of,  formerly  Amy  Robsart. 

Leopold,  Archduke  of  Austria,  a  crusader. 

Lesley,  Mr.,  a  friend  of  Captain  M'Intyre. 

Leslie,  General,  a  parliamentary  leader. 

Lesly,  Ludovic,  'Le  Balafr^,'  an  old  archer  of  the 
Scottish  Guard,  uncle  of  Quentin  Durward. 

Leven,  the  Earl  of,  a  parliamentary  leader. 


Guy  Mannering. 

Woodstock.^ 

Kenilworth. ' 

The  Highland  Widow. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Redgauntlet. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Kenilworth. 

Kenilworth. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Redgauntlet. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris, 

Rob  Roy. 

Redgauntlet. 

Old  Mortality. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Kenilworth. 
Woodstock. 

Woodstock. 

Woodstock. 

Woodstock. 

Kenilworth. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Antiquary. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Quentin  Durward. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 


344 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Levitt,  Frank,  a  highwayman. 
Lickitup,  the  Laird  of,  one  of  Niel  Blane's  cus- 
tomers. 
Lightbody,  Jean,  Gibbie  Girder's  wife. 
Lightbody,  Luckie,  alias '  Marion  Loup  the  Dyke,* 

Jean's  mother. 
Lighto'heel,  Janet,  mother  of  Godfrey  Bertram 

Hewit. 
Lilias,  the  Lady  of  Avenel's  handmaiden. 
Lincoln,  the  Bishop  of. 
Lindesay,  Lord,  one  of  the  embassy  to  Queen 

Mary. 
Lindesay,  an  archer  of  the  Scottish  Guard. 
Linklater,  Laurie,  yeoman  of  the  king's  kitchen,  a 

friend  of  Richie  Moniplles. 
Littlejohn,  Bailie,  a  magistrate  at  Fairport. 
Little  John  and  Robin  Hood. 
Lochleven,  the  Lady  of,  mother  of  the  Regent 

Murray. 
Lockhard,    Mr.,    confidential    servant    of     Sir 

William  Ashton. 
Locksley,  or  Robin  Hood. 

Logothete,  the,  chancellor  of  the  Grecian  Empire. 
Longchamp,  Bishop  of  Ely,  high  justiciary  in 

England  during  King  Richard's  absence. 
Longsword,  see  Salisbury,  Earl  of. 
Longueville,  Thomas  de,  the  Red  Rover. 
Loredani,  Giacomo,  King  Richard's  interpreter. 
Lorimer,  on  guard  at  Ardenvohr  castle. 
Lorn,  M'Dougal  of. 
Louis  the  Eleventh,  King  of  France,  first  disguised 

as  Maltre  Pierre,  a  merchant. 
Louis  the  Eleventh,  King  of  France. 
Louis  of  Bourbon,  the  Prince-Bishop  of  Liege. 
Louis,  Duke  of  Orleans. 
Louis,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's  retainers. 
Louise,  the  glee-maiden. 
Louponheight,  the  young  Laird  of,  at  the  ball  at 

Middlemas. 
Lovel,  Mr.,  afterward  Lord  William  Geraldin. 
LowestoSe,  Reginald,  a  young  Templar. 
Lowrie,  Tam,  the  innkeeper  at  Marchthorn. 
Lowther,  Jack,  a  smuggler. 
Lumley,  Captain,  in  the  Royal  Army. 
Lundin,  Sir  Louis,  the  town  clerk  of  Perth. 
Lundin,  Dr.  Luke,  the  chamberlain  at  Kinross. 
Lutin,  Lord  Dalgarno's  gipsy  page. 
Lyle,  Annot,  daughter  of  the  Knight  of  Ardenvohr. 
Lysimachus,  an  artist  of  Constantinople. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Guy  Mannering. 
The  Abbot. 
Kenilworth. 

The  Abbot. 
Quentin  Durward, 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Talisman. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Ivanhoe. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Talisman. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Quentin  Durward. 
Anne  of  Geier stein. 
Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

St.  Ronan's  WeU. 

Redgauntlet. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 


M'Alpin,  Sergeant  More. 
M'Alpin,  Janet,  his  sister. 


A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 


345 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS    ' 


MacAlpine,  Jeanie,  landlady  of  the  Clachan  of 

Aberfoil. 
MacAnaleister,  Eachin,  a  follower  of  Rob  Roy. 
M'Aulay,  Allan,  or  Allan  of  the  Red  Hand,  in 

love  with  Annot  Lyle. 
M'Aulay,  Angus,  a  Highland  chief. 
Macbriar,  Ephraini,  an  enthusiast  preacher. 
MacCallum,  Dougal,  Sir  Robert  Redgauntlet's 

butler. 
Mac-Candlish,  Mrs.,  landlady  of  the  Gordon  Arms 

Inn  at  Kippletringan. 
Mac-Casquil,  Mr.,  of  Drumquag,  a  relation  of  Mrs. 

Margaret  Bertram. 
Maccombich,  Evan  Dhu,  foster  brother  of  Fergus 

Mac-Ivor. 
M'Combich,  or  MacGregor,  Robin  Oig,  a  High- 
land drover. 
Mac-Crosskie  of  Crookstone,  Deacon,  a  neighbour 

of  the  Laird  of  Ellangowan. 
M'Donald,  Alaster,  young  Colkitto. 
M'Dougal  of  Lorn,  a  Highland  chief. 
MacEagh,  Ranald,   one  of  the  Children  of  the 

Mist,  Allan  M'Aulay's  foe. 
MacEagh,  Kenneth,  his  grandson. 
MacEvoy,  Janet,  Mrs.  Croftangry's  landlady. 
MacFarlane,  Elspeth,  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's  mother. 
MacFarlane,  Maggy,  wife  of  Duncan  MacNab. 
Macfie,  the  Laird  of  Gudgeonford,  a  neighbour  of 

the  Laird  of  Ellangowan. 
Macfin,  Miles,  the  cadie  at  Edinburgh. 
MacFittoch,  Mr.,  the  dancing-master  at  Middle- 
mas. 
Mac-Grainer,  Master,  a  dissenting  minister  at 

Kippletringan. 
MacGregor,   Rob  Roy,   the  outlaw,   or  Robert 

Campbell. 
MacGregor,  Helen,  Rob  Roy's  wife. 
MacGregor,  Hamish  and  Robert  Oig,  their  sons. 
Mac-Gruthar,  Sandy,  a  beggar. 
Mac-GuSog,  David,  the  keeper  of  Portanferry 

prison. 
Mac-Gu£fog,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 
Maclan,  Gilchrist,  father  of  Ian  Eachin. 
Maclan,  Hector,  Ian  Eachin  or  Connachar. 
M'llduy,  or  Mhich-Connel  Dhu,  a  Highland  chief. 
M'Intyre,  Mary,  the  Antiquary's  niece. 
M'Intyre,  Captain  Hector,  her  brother. 
Mac-Ivor,  Fergus,  or  Vich  Ian  Vohr,  the  chief  of 
•   Glennaquoich. 
Mac-Ivor,  Flora,  his  sister. 
Mackerris,  Colonel,  the  author's  '  excellent  friend 

and  neighbour.' 


Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Old  Morlalily. 

Redgauntlet. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Waverley, 

The  Two  Drovers, 

Guy  Mannering. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
The  Highland  Widow.\ 
Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 

Waverley. 
Waverley. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Mackitchinson,  the  landlord  at  the  Queensferry 
inn. 

M'Lean,  Sir  Hector,  a  Highland  chief. 

Macleary,  Widow,  landlady  of  the  Tully-Veolan 
village  alehouse. 

MacLeish,  Donald,  Mrs.  Baliol's  postilion. 

Macleuchar,  Mrs.,  the  book-keeper  at  the  coach- 
office  in  Edinburgh. 

MacLewis,  captain  of  the  king's  guard. 

Maclure,  Elizabeth,  an  old  widow,  a  Covenanter. 

Mac-Morlan,  Mr.,  Lucy  Bertram's  guardian. 

Mac-Morlan,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 

Mac-Murrough  nan  Fonn,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's 
family  bard. 

MacPhadraick,  Miles,  a  Highland  soldier. 

Macpherson,  Secundus,  translator  of  Annot  Lyle's 
ballads. 

Macraw,  Francie,  an  old  domestic  at  the  Earl  of 
Glenallan's. 

MacRaw,  Peter,  the  old  piper  of  Stomoway. 

Macready,  Pate,  a  pedlar,  Andrew  Fairservice's 
friend. 

MacTavish  Mhor,  or  Hamish  MacTavish,  a 
Highland  outlaw. 

MacTavish,  Elspat,  or  'the  woman  of  the  tree,' 
his  widow, 

MacTavish,  Hamish  Bean,  their  son. 

MacTurk,  Captain  Hector,  'the  man  of  peace'  at 
the  Spa  hotel. 

MacVittie,  Ephraim,  a  Glasgow  merchant. 

Macwheeble,  Duncan,  the  Baron  of  Bradwardine's 
bailie. 

Mahony,  Dugald,  Evan  Dhu's  attendant. 

Mailsetter,  Mrs.,  keeper  of  the  Fairport  post-office. 

Mailsetter,  Davie,  her  son. 

Malachi,  the  canting  smuggler's  assistant. 

Malagrowther,  Sir  Mungo,  a  crabbed  old  courtier. 

Malcolm,  the  Usurper. 

Malvoisin,  Sir  Albert  de,  a  preceptor  of  the 
Knights  Templars. 

Malvoisin,  Sir  Philip  de,  one  of  the  knights 
challengers. 

Mangerton,  the  Laird  of,  John  Armstrong. 

Mangleman,  Mungo,  the  surgeon  at  Greenock. 

Mannering,  Guy,  the  successful  Indian  colonel. 

Mannering,  Mrs.,  his  wife,  formerly  Sophia  Well- 
wood. 

Mannering,  Julia,  their  daughter,  afterwards  mar- 
ried to  Henry  Bertram. 

Mannering,  Sir  Paul,  Guy's  rich  uncle. 

Mansel,  Sir  Edward,  lieutenant  of  the  Tower  of 
London. , 


The  Antiquary. 

A  Legend  oj  Montrose. 

Waverley. 

The  Highland  Widow. 

The  Antiquary. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Old  Mortality. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Waverley. 

The  Highland  Widow. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Antiquary. 
The  Pirate. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Highland  Widow. 

The  Highland  Widow. 
The  Highland  Widow, 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Rob  Roy. 

Waverley. 

Waverley. 

The  Antiquary.  \ 

The  Antiquary. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 

The  Antiquary. 

Ivanhoe. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Laird's  Jock. 

The  Heart  oj  Midlothian. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigek 


347 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Mansel,  Lady,  his  wife. 

Marchmont,  Matilda,  Julia  Mannering's  confi- 
dante. 

Marcian,  armourer  to  Count  Robert. 

Marck,  William  de  la,  'the  Wild  Boar  of  Ardennes,* 
a  French  noble. 

Mareschal  of  Mareschal  Wells,  one  of  the  Jacobite 
conspirators. 

Margaret  of  Anjou,  widow  of  King  Henry  the 
Sixth  of  England. 

Margery,  Lady  Eveline's  old  nurse. 

Markham,  in  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  train. 

Marsport,  Mungo,  prosecutor  of  Captain  Lack- 
land. 

Martha,  Dame,  Major  Bridgenorth's  housekeeper. 

Martha,  the  servant  girl  at  Shaws  Castle. 

Martha,  the  Abbess,  of  Elcho  nunnery,  a  kins- 
woman of  the  Glovers. 

Martha,  the  old  housekeeper  at  Osbaldistone  Hall. 

Martha,    alias    Ulrica,    mother    of    Hereward's 
betrothed. 

Marthon,  the  old  cook  at  Arnheim  Castle. 

Marthon,    alias   Rizpah,    a   Bohemian   woman, 
attendant  of  the  Countess  of  Croye. 

Martigny,  Marie,  Countess  de,  mother  of  Frank 
Tyrrel. 

Martin,  Dame,  Darsie  Latimer's  partner  at  the 
fishers'  dance. 

Martin,  Luckie,  mistress  of  a  change-house. 

Martin,  the  old  verdurer. 

Martin,  the  old  shepherd,  with  the  Lady  of  Avenel. 

Martival,  Stephen  de,  a  steward  of  the  field  at  the 
tournament. 

Martivalle,  Galeotti,  the  astrologer. 

Mary,  Queen  of  Scots. 

Masters,  Doctor,  the  queen's  physician. 

Mattie,  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's  maid-servant,  and 
afterwards  his  wife. 

Maugrabin,  Zamet,  a  Bohemian  hanged   near 
Plessis. 

Maugrabin,  Hayraddin,  his  brother,  afterwards 
disguised  as  Rouge  Sanglier. 

Mauley,  Sir  Edward,  the  Black  Dwarf, 

Maulstatute,  Master,  a  magistrate. 

Maultext,  Melchisedek,  a  preacher. 

Mause,  Cuddie  Headrigg's  mother,  a  Covenanter. 

Mauthe  Doog,  the  fiend  supposed  to  haunt  Peel 
Castle. 

Maxwell,  the  deputy  chamberlain  at  Whitehall. 

Maxwell,  Mr.,  the  Laird  of  Summertrees,  'Pate  in 
Peril.' 

Maxwell,  William,  Lord  Evandale. 

348 


The  Fortunes  of  Nigd, 

Guy  Mannering. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Quentin  Durward. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

A  nne  of  Geierslein. 
The  Betrothed, 
KenUworlh. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Rob  Roy. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Quentin  Durward. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 
The  Abbot. 
Woodstock. 
The  Monastery. 

Ivanhoe. 

Quentin  Durward. 
The  Abbot. 
Kenilworth. 

Rob  Roy. 

Quentin  Durward, 

Quentin  Durward. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Kenilu'orth. 
Old  Mortality. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 

Redgauntlet. 
Old  Mortality. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Mayflower,  Phoebe,  a  servant  of  Sir  Henry  Lee. 
Meiklehose,  Isaac,  one  of  the  elders  of  Roseneath 

parish. 
Meiklewham,  Mr.  Saunders,  'the  man  of  law,'  at 

the  Spa  hotel. 
Melchior,  a  monk  attending  the  Black  Priest 

of  St.  Paul's. 
Melville,  Major,  a  magistrate  at  Cairnvreckan 

village. 
Melville,  Sir  Robert,  one  of  the  embassy  to  Queen 

Mary. 
Mengs,  John,  the  surly  innkeeper  at  Kirchhofif 

village. 
Menteith,  the  Earl  of,  a  kinsman  of  the  Earl  of 

Montrose. 
Mercer,  Major,  at  the  presidency  at  Madras. 
Meredith,    Mr.,   one   of   the   conspirators   with 

Redgauntlet. 
Meredith,  Mr.  Michael,  'the  man  of  mirth'  at  the 

Spa  hotel. 
Meredith,  a  Welsh  knight. 
Merrilies,  Meg,  'Beelzebub's  postmistress.' 
Mertoun,  Basil,  alias  Vaughan,  formerly  a  pirate. 
Mertoun,  Mordaunt,  his  son,  in  love  with  Brenda 

Troil. 
Mervyn,  Arthur,  Julia  Mannering's  guardian. 
Middleburgh,  Mr.  James,  a  magistrate  in  Edin- 
burgh. 
Middlemas,  Mr.  Matthew,  a  name  assumed  by 

General  Witherington. 
Middlemas,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 
Middlemas,   Richard,   their  son,   the   surgeon's 

apprentice. 
Milan,  the  Duke  of,  an  Italian  nobleman. 
Miller,  the,  one  of  Locksley's  men. 
Mincing,  Mrs.,  maid  to  Julia  Mannering. 
Misbegot,  or  Misticot,  Malcolm,  natural  son  of 

Sybil  Knockwinnock. 
Mitford,  Colonel,  a  friend  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril. 
Mixit,  Dr.,  the  apothecary  at  the  Black  Bear  Inn 

at  Darlington. 
Moffat,  Mabel,  Redgauntlet's  domestic. 
Moidart,  John  of,  captain  of  the  Clan  Ranald  in 

Montrose's  army. 
Mongada,  Zilia  de,  married  to  General  Witherington. 
Monf ada,  Matthias  de,  her  father,  a  merchant. 
Moncrieff  of  Tippermalloch,  a  'popish'  laird. 
Moniplies,  Richie,  Lord  Nigel's  Scotch  servant. 
Monk,  General. 

Monkbarns,  Provost,  the  Antiquary's  father. 
Monmouth,  the  Duke  of,  commander  in  chief  of 

the  royal  army. 


Woodstock. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

St.  Rattan's  Well. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Waverley. 

The  Abbot. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose, 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Redgauntlet. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Castle  Dangerous. 
Guy  Mannering. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Pirate. 
Guy  Mannering. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Ivanhoe. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Antiquary. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Rob  Roy. 
Redgauntlet. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughtetj 

The  Abbot. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Woodstock. 

The  Antiquary. 

Old  Mortality. 


349 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Montenay,  Sir  Philip  de,  an  English  knight. 
Montfaucon,  the  Lady  Calista  of,  Queen  Beren- 

garia's  attendant. 
Mont-Fitchet,    Conrade,    a    preceptor    of    the 

Knights  Templars. 
Monthermer,   Guy,  a  nobleman  in  Henry  the 

Second's  service. 
Montjoie,  the  chief  herald  of  France. 
Montreville,    Madame    Adela,    or    the    Begum 

Mootee  Mahul. 
Montrose,  the  Duke  of,  commander  in  chief  of  the 

royalist  army. 
Montrose,  the  Marquis  of. 
Montrose,  James  Grahame,  Earl  of,  the  king's 

lieutenant  in  Scotland. 
Montserrat,  Conrade,  Marquis  of,  a  crusader. 
Moonshine,  Saunders,  a  smuggler. 
Mordaunt,  Queen  Margaret's  secretary  at  Aix. 
Morgan,  one  of  Prince  Gwenwyn's  soldiers. 
Mornay,  the  old  seneschal  at  Earl  Herbert's  tower 

at  Peronne. 
Morolt,  Dennis,  Sir  Raymond's  old  squire. 
Morris,  a  domestic  of  the  Earl  of  Derby. 
Morris,  Mr.,  Frank  Osbaldistone's  timid  fellow 

traveller  with  the  portmanteau. 
Morrison,  Hugh,  a  Lowland  drover. 
Mortcloke,  Mr.,  the  undertaker  at  Mrs.  Margaret 

Bertram's  funeral. 
Mortemar,  Alberick   of,   an  exiled   noble,  alias 

Theodorick,  the  hermit  of  Engaddi. 
Morton,  the  Earl  of,  in  Queen  Mary's  service. 
Morton,  the  Earl  of,  a  member  of  the  privy  council 

of  Scotland. 
Morton,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  the  pastor  of  Cairnvreckan 

village. 
Morton,  Henry,  a  suitor  of  Miss  Edith  Bellenden's, 

and  a  leader  m  the  Covenanters'  army  with 

Balfour. 
Morton,  Ralph,  of  Milnwood,  Henry's  uncle. 
Morton,  Colonel  Silas,  of  Milnwood,  Henry's 

father. 
Mortsheugh,  Johnie,  the  old  sexton. 
Mowbray,  Mr.  John,  lord  of  the  manor  of  St. 

Ronan's. 
Mowbray,  Clara,  his  sister,  betrothed  to  Frank 

Tyrrel,  but  married  to  Valentine  Bulmer. 
Mowbray,  Reginald  Scrogie,  father  of  Peregrine 

Touchwood. 
Mucklebackit,    Saunders,  the  old   fisherman  at 

Musselcrag. 
Mucklebackit,    Elspeth,    or    Elspeth    Cheyne, 

mother  of  Saunders. 


Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Talisman. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Betrothed. 
Quentin  Durward. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughler. 

Rob  Roy. 
Woodstock. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
The  Talisman. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 
Anne  of  Geier stein. 
The  Betrothed. 

Quentin  Durward. 
The  Betrothed. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Two  Drovers. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Talisman. 
The  Monastery. 

The  Abbot. 

Waverley, 

Old  Mortality. 
Old  Mortality. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

St.  Ronan's  Wdl. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Antiquary, 


350 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Mucklebackit,  Maggie,  his  wife. 

Mucklebackit,  Steenie,  their  eldest  son  (drowned), 

Mucklebackit,  little  Jenny,  their  daughter. 

Mucklebackit,  Patie,  Saunders's  favourite  child. 

Mucklewrath,  Habakkuk,  a  fanatic  preacher. 

Mucklewrath,  John,  the  smith  at  Cairnvreckan 
village. 

Mucklewrath,  Dame,  his  wife,  a  virago. 

Multon,  Sir  Thomas  de,  of  Gilsland,  Lord  de  Vaux, 
a  crusader. 

Mumblazen,  Master  Michael,  the  old  herald,  a 
dependant  on  Sir  Hugh  Robsart. 

Mumps,  Tib,  the  landlady  of  the  alehouse  on  the 
road  to  CharUe's  Hope  farm. 

Murdockson,  Meg,  mother  of  Madge  Wildfire. 

Murray,  the  Earl  of,  in  Queen  Mary's  service. 

Murray,  the  Earl  of,  regent  of  Scotland. 

Muschat,  Nichol,  the  wife-murderer. 

Musgrave,  Sir  Miles,  an  officer  in  the  king's  serv- 
ice. 

Myrebeau,  le  Sieur  de,  one  of  the  committee  of  the 
Estates  of  Burgundy. 

Mysie,  Lady  Margaret  Bellenden's  female  attend- 
ant. 

Mysie,  the  old  housekeeper  at  Wolf's  Crag  tower. 


The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary, 
Old  Mortality, 

Waverley. 
Waverley. 

The  Talisman. 

Kenilworth. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Heart  oj  Midlothian. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor* 


Narses,  a  domestic  slave  of  the  Emperor  of  Greece. 

Neal,  an  attendant  on  the  Marquis  of  Argyle. 

Nectabanus,  the  dwarf,  at  the  hermit  of  Engaddi's 
cell. 

Neilson,  Mr.  Christopher,  a  surgeon  at  Glasgow. 

Neipperg,  Lawrenz,  the  Blue  Cavalier. 

Nell,  a  servant  at  Martindale  Castle. 

Nelly,  Mrs.  Dinmont's  servant  girl. 

Netherstane,  Edie,  the  miller  at  Grindleburn. 

Neville,  Sir  Henry,  King  Richard's  chamberlain. 

Neville,  Eveline,  married  to  the  Earl  of  Glenallan, 
mother  of  Lord  Geraldin. 

Neville,  Major,  an  assumed  name  of  Lord  Geraldin. 

Neville,  Mr.  Geraldin,  uncle  to  Lord  Geraldin. 

Newcastle,  the  Duchess  of,  at  Charles  the  Sec- 
ond's court. 

Newcastle,  the  Marquis  of,  in  King  Charles  the 
First's  service. 

Nicanor,  the  Protospathaire,  a  Greek  general. 

Nicneven,  Mother,  a  name  given  to  Magdalen 
Graeme. 

Nicodemus,  one  of  General  Harrison's  servants. 

Nicolas,  Brother,  a  monk  at  St.  Mary's  convent. 

Nigel,  Lord,  Olifaunt  of  Glenvarloch. 

Nixon,  Cristal,  Mr.  Redgauntlet's  agent. 

Nixon,  Martha,  the  Earl  of  Oxford's  old  nurse. 


Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

The  Talisman. 
Rob  Roy. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Guy  Mannering. 
The  Pirate. 
The  Talisman. 

The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak, 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Abbot. 

Woodstock. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 

Redgauntlel. 

Anne  of  Geierstein, 


3SI 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Noble,  Hobbie,  an  English  outlaw. 
Norman,  Sir  William  Ashton's  forester. 
Norman  nan  Ord,  or  Norman  of  the  hammer. 
Noma  of  the  Fitful  Head,  '  the  Reimkennar.' 
North,  Lord,  one  of  the  judges. 
Northampton,  the  Earl  of,  a  friend  of  the  Earl  of 

Huntinglen. 
Nosebag,  Mrs.,  Waverley's  inquisitive  travelling 

companion. 
Novit,  Mr.  Nichil,  the  old  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes's 

lawyer. 

Oates,  Dr.  Titus,  the  champion  of  the  Popish  Plot. 
Ochiltree,  Edie,  a  king's  bedesman,  or  blue-gown, 

the  wandering  beggar. 
O'Kean,  Lieutenant,  a  former  admirer  of  Mrs. 

Margaret  Bertram. 
Olave,  brother  of  Noma's  father,  and  grandsire  of 

Minna  and  Brenda. 
Oldbuck,    Jonathan,    the   Antiquary,    Laird   of 

Monkbarns. 
Oldbuck,  Miss  Griselda,  his  sister. 
Old  Mortality,  the  itinerant  antiquary. 
Olifant,    Basil,   a    kinsman   of   Lady   Margaret 

Bellenden. 
Olifaunt  of  Glenvarloch,  Lord  Nigel. 
Oliver,  Jack,  a  friend  of  Darsie  Latimer. 
Oliver  le  Dain,  or  Oliver  le  Diable,  Louis  the 

Eleventh's  favourite  minister. 
O'Quilligan,  Major,  an   adversary  of   Dugald 

Dalgetty. 
Orleans,  Louis,  Duke  of. 
Ormond,  the  Duke  of,  a  privy  councillor. 
Ormston,  Jock,  a  sheriff's  officer  at  Fairport. 
Orrock,  Puggie,  a  sheriff's  officer  at  Fairport. 
Osbaldistone,  William,  a  London  merchant. 
Osbaldistone,  Frank,  his  son,  in  love  with  Diana 

Vernon. 
Osbaldistone,  Sir  Hildebrand,  Frank's  uncle. 
Osbaldistone,  Percival,  'the  sot,'  Sir  Hildebrand's 

heir. 
Osbaldistone,  Thomclifif,  'the  bully,'  Sir  Hilde- 
brand's favourite  son. 
Osbaldistone,  John,  'the  game-keeper';  Richard, 

'the  horse-jockey';  Wilfred,  'the  fool';  Rash- 

leigh,  'the  scholar,' other  sons  of  Sir  Hildebrand. 
Osmund,  an  old  Varangian  guard. 
Ostler,  Dick,  one  of  Mrs.  Bickerton's  menservants. 
Oswald,  the  cup-bearer  at  Rotherwood. 
Otranto,  Tancred,  Prince  of,  a  crusader. 
Otranto,  Ernest  of,  page  to  Prince  Tancred. 
Outram,  Lance,  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's  park-keeper. 

352 


The  Laird's  Jock. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Pirate. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Waverley. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Antiquary. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
Old  Mortality. 

Old  Mortality. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Redgauntlct. 
Quenlin  Durward  and 
Anne  of  Geier stein. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose, 
Quenlin  Durward. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  A  ntiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 
Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 


Rob  Roy. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Ivanhoe. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Cotint  Robert  of  Paris. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


i 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Overdees,  Rowley,  a  highwayman. 

Overton,  Colonel,  in  Cromwell's  troop. 

Owen,  Mr.  Osbaldistone  senior's  confidential  clerk. 

Owen,  Sam,  Darsie  Latimer's  groom. 

Oxford,  the  young  Earl  of,  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 

court. 
Oxford,  John,  Earl  of,  an  exiled  Lancastrian  first 

disguised  as  the  elder  Philipson,  a  merchant. 
Oxford,  the  Countess  of,  his  wife. 

Pacolet,  or  Nick  Strumpfer. 

Paget,  Lady,  a  lady  of  the  Queen's  bedchamber. 

Palmer,  the,  Wilfred,  knight  of  Ivanhoe,  in  disguise. 

Pate-in-Peril,  see  Maxwell,  Mr. 

Paterson,  Pate,  Bryce  Snailsfoot's  serving  boy. 

Patrick,  an  old  domestic  at  Shaws  Castle. 

Pattieson,  Peter,  a  protege  of  Jedediah  Cleish- 

botham. 
Pattieson,  Paul,  brother  of  Peter. 
PatuUo,  Mrs.,  Lady  Ashton's  waiting  woman. 
Pauline,  Mademoiselle,  or  Monna  Paula,  the  Lady 

Hennione's  attendant. 
Paupiah,    the   British    Governor's    steward    at 

Madras. 
Pavilion,  Meinheer  Hermann,  the  syndic  at  Liege. 
Pavilion,  Mother  Mabel,  his  wife. 
Pavilion,  Trudchen  or  Gertrude,  their  daughter, 

betrothed  to  Hans  Glover. 
Pearson,  Captain  Gilbert,  Cromwell's  officer  in 

attendance. 
Peebles,  'Poor  Peter  Peebles,'  the  pauper  litigant. 
Peel-the-Causeway,  a  friend  of  the  smugglers. 
Peggy,  the  laundry  maid  at  Colonel  Mannering's. 
Peggy,  the  old  widow  Maclure's  grandchild. 
Pembroke,  the  Earl  of,  uncle  to  Sir  Aymer  de 

Valence. 
Pembroke,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  chaplain  at  Waverley 

Honour. 
Penfeather,  Lady  Penelope,  the  lady  patroness  at 

the  Spa. 
Pengwinion,  Mr.,  a  Jacobite  conspirator  with  Mr. ' 

Redgauntlet. 
Penny,  Jock,  a  highwayman. 
Pest,  Mr.,  a  barrister. 

Peter,  Father,  a  learned  monk  of  Aberbrothock. 
Peter  the  Hermit,  with  the  crusaders. 
Peter  of  the  Brig,  the  bridge-keeper. 

Peters,  Hugh,  a  famous  divine. 
Petit-Andre,  an  executioner. 
Peveril,  William,  a  natural  son  of  William  the 
Conqueror,  and  ancestor  of  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


Guy  Mannering, 
Woodstock. 
Rob  Roy. 
Redgauntlet. 

Kenilworth. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 
Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

The  Pirate. 

Kenilworth. 
Ivanhoe. 

The  Pirate. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Tales  of  My  Landlord, 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
Quentin  Durward. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Quentin  Durward. 

Woodstock. 
Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Old  Mortality,  j 
J  H 

Castle  Dangerous.) 

Waverley. 

St.  Ronan's  Well 

Redgauntlet. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Redgauntlet. 
Quentin  Durward.' 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
The  Monastery  and    Tht 

Abbot. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


45 


353 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Peveril,  Sir  Geoffrey,  Peveril  of  the  Peak,  a 

cavalier. 
Peveril,  Lady  Margaret,  his  wife. 
Peveril,   Julian,   their  son,   in  love  with  Alice 

Bridgenorth. 
Phil,  little,  the  old  fisherman's  lad. 
Philip,  Father,  sacristan  of  St.  Mary's. 

Philip  Augustus,  King  of  France,  one  of  the  cru- 
sading princes. 

Philipson,  Seignor,  a  disguise  assumed  by  John  de 
Vere,  the  exiled  Earl  of  Oxford. 

Philipson,  Arthur,  his  son. 

Phraortes,  the  Greek  admiral. 

Pierre,  Maitre,  a  name  assumed  by  Louis  XI. 

Pigal,  Monsieur  de,  AUce  Bridgenorth's  dancing- 
master. 

Pike,  Gideon,  Major  Bellenden's  old  valet. 

Pinnit,  Orson,  the  keeper  of  the  bears. 

Piper,  Mr.,  owner  of  the  mail  coach. 

Pirner,  John,  the  old  fisherman  at  St.  Ronan's. 

Plainstanes,  Paul,  the  defendant  in  Peebles  v. 
Plainstanes. 

Plantagenet.  Lady  Edith,  Richard  Coeur-de-Lion's 
kinswoman,  afterwards  married  to  the  Prince  of 
Scotland. 

Pleydell,  Paulus,  an  advocate  in  Edinburgh,  first 
the  sherifi  at  EUangowan. 

Plumdamas,  Peter,  the  grocer. 

Poinder,  George,  one  of  the  city  officers. 

Policy,  Mrs.,  the  housekeeper  at  Holyrood  palace. 

Polwarth,  Alick,  a  servant  of  Waverley. 

Polydore,  a  comrade  of  Ernest,  Prince  Tancred's 
page. 

Pontoys,  Stephen,  a  veteran  in  Hugo  de  Lacy's 
troop. 

Porteous,  Captain  John,  an  officer  of  the  city 
guard,  hanged  by  the  mob. 

Porteous,  Mrs.,  his  widow. 

Portsmouth,  the  Duchess  of.  La  Belle  Louise  de 
Querouaille,  one  of  Charles  the  Second's  mis- 
tresses. 

Pott,  Mr.,  the  librarian  at  the  Spa. 

Pott,  Mrs.,  his  wife. 

Poundtext,  Peter,  an  'indulged'  pastor  with  the 
Covenanters'  army. 

Powheid,  Lazarus,  the  old  sexton  in  Douglas- 
town. 

Pritchard,  William,  commander  of  H.M.  sloop 
the  Shark. 

Protocol,  Mr.  Peter,  an  attorney  in  Edinburgh. 

Protosebastos,  the,  or  Sebastocrator,  a  state  officer. 

354 


Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Redgauntlet. 

The  Monastery  and   The 
Abbot.] 

The  Talisman. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris, 
Quentin  Durward. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Old  Mortality. 

Kenilworlh. 

The  Highland  Widow. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 


The  Talisman. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Waverley. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
St.  Ronan's  Well, 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Old  Mortality. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

Guy  Mannering. 
Guy  Mannering. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 


I 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Proudfute,  Oliver,  the  bonnet-maker  of  Perth. 
Proudfute,  Magdalen  or  Maudie,  his  widow. 
Purefoy,  Master,  Dr.  RochecliSe's  former  tutor. 

Quackleben,  Dr.  Quentin,  'the  man  of  medicine,' 
at  the  Spa. 

Quentin,  Black,  Sir  John  Ramorny's  groom. 

Quid,  Mr.,  the  tobacconist,  a  relation  of  Mrs. 
Margaret  Bertram. 

Quitam,  Mr.,  the  lawyer  at  the  Black  Bear  Iim  at 
Darhngton. 

Quodling,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  the  Duke  of  Bucking- 
ham's chaplain. 

Rachael,  a  servant  girl  at  Lady  Peveril's. 
Raine,  old  Roger,  the  tapster  of  the  Peveril  Arms. 
Raine,    Dame,    his    widow,    afterwards    Dame 

Chamberlain. 
Raleigh,  Walter,  afterwards  Sir  Walter,  in  the 

Earl  of  Sussex's  train. 
Ralph,  Rough,  Lance  Outram's  helper  in  the  park. 
Ramorny,   Sir  John,   the  Prince  of  Scotland's 

master  of  the  horse. 
Ramsay,  David,  the  old  watchmaker  near  Temple 

Bar. 
Ramsay,    Margaret,    his    daughter,    afterwards 

married  to  Lord  Nigel. 
Randal,  the  boatman  at  Lochleven  Castle. 
Raoul,  Sir  Raymond  Berenger's  old  huntsman. 
Raredrench,  Master,  the  apothecary. 
Rasper,  Mrs.  Glass's  shopman. 
Ratcliffe,  Hubert,  a  friend  of  Sir  Edward  Mauley. 
Ratclifie,  James,  a  noted  thief. 
Rattray,  Sir  Rullion,  of  Ranagullion,  Sir  Mungo 

Malgrowther's  duelling  friend. 
Ravenswood,  Allan,  Lord. 
Ravenswood,  Edgar,  his  son. 
Ravenswood,  Sir  Malise,  the  Revenger. 
Raymond,  Count  of  Toulouse,  a  crusader. 
Rebecca,  daughter  of  Isaac  the  Jew. 
Rebecca,    Mistress,    Mrs.    Margaret    Bertram's 

favourite  waiting  woman. 
Red  Cap,  Mother,  an  old  nurse. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Alberick,  an  ancestor  of  that 

family. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Edward,  his  son,  killed  by  Sir 

Alberick's  horse. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Robert,  an  old  Tory,  in  Wander- 
ing Willie's  tale. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  John,  son  of  Sir  Robert. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Redwald,  son  of  Sir  John. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Henry  Darsie,  son  of  Sir  Redwald. 


The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 
Woodstock. 


St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Fair  Maid  oJ  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 

Rob  Roy. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak, 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

KenUworth. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 

The  Abbot. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Ivanhoe. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 


355 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Redgauntlet,  Lady,  wife  of  Sir  Henry. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Arthur  Darsie,  their  son,  alias 

Darsie  Latimer. 
Redgauntlet,  Miss  Lilias,  their  daughter,  after-  ' 

wards  married  to  Alan  Fairford. 
Redgauntlet,  Sir  Edward  Hugh,  the  Jacobite  con- 
spirator, uncle  of  Darsie  Latimer. 
Redman,   Sir  Magnus,   English  warden  of  the 

Eastern  Marches. 
Reinold,  Sir  Raymond  Berenger's  butler. 
Rene,  King  of  Provence,  father  of  Queen  Margaret 

of  Anjou. 
Reuben,  a  servant  at  the  Jew's  friend's  house. 
Rewcastle,  John,  a  Jedburgh  smuggler,  one  of  the 

Jacobite  conspirators. 
Richard,  Coeur-de-Lion,  King  of  England,  leader 

of  the  crusade. 
Richard,  Coeur-de-Lion,  King  of  England,  first 

disguised  as  the  Black  Knight. 
Richard,  Prince,  eldest  son  of  King  Henry  II. 
Richmond,  the  Duchess  of,  at  Charles  the  Second's 

court. 
Richmond,  the  Earl  of,  Henry  of  Lancaster. 
Rickets,  Mabel,  an  old  nurse  at  Mr.  Osbaldistone's. 
Rimegap,  Joe,  one  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's  miners. 
Ringan,  one  of  Henry  Smith's  men. 
Ringhorse,  Sir  Robert,  a  magistrate. 
Ringwood,  a  young  Templar. 
Rintherout,  Jenny,  a  servant  at  Monkbarns. 
Rintherout,  Tam,  her  brother. 
Rob  the  Rambler,  the  blind  fiddler's  comrade. 
Rob  Roy  MacGregor,  or  Robert  Campbell,  the 

outlaw. 
Robb,  Duncan,  the  grocer  at  Kippletringan. 
Robert  III,  King  of  Scotland. 
Robert,  Count  of  Paris,  one  of  the  crusading 

princes. 
Robert,  a  servant  of  Sir  Arthur  Wardour. 
Roberts,  Master  Heriot's  cash  keeper. 
Roberts,  John,  a  smuggler. 
Robertson,  George,  '  Gentleman  Geordie.' 
Robin,  the  butler  to  Ralph  Morton. 
Robin  Hood,  or  Dickon  Bend-the-Bow,  first  as 

Locksley  the  archer  at  the  Tournament. 
Robin  Hood  and  Little  John. 
Robin  of  Redcastle,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's  fol- 
lowers. 
Robins,  Zerubbabel,  in  Cromwell's  troop. 
Robison,  Dick,  the  player  whose  ghost  haunted 

Harrison. 
Robsart,  Amy,  Countess  of  Leicester. 
Robsart,  Sir  Hugh,  of  Lidcote  Hall,  her  father. 


Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Betrothed. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Ivanhoe. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Talisman. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Betrothed. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Rob  Roy. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth, 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Antiquary. 
The  A  ntiquary. 
Redgauntlet. 

Rob  Roy. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  A  ntiquary. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Old  Mortality. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Talisman. 

The  Monastery. 
Woodstock. 

Woodstock. 
Kenilworth. 
Kenilworth. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Rochecliffe,  Dr.  Anthony,  the  plotting  royalist, 

formerly  Joseph  Albany. 
Rochester,  the  Earl  of,  or  Lord  Wilmot,  King 

Charles  the  Second's  favourite. 
Rochester,  the  Earl  of. 
Rollock,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 
Ronaldson,  Neil,  the  old  Ranzelman  at  Jarlshof. 
Rory  Dall,  the  harper. 
Rosamond  CUfford,  '  the  Fair  Rosamond,'  King 

Henry  the  Second's  mistress. 
Ross,  Lord,  an  oflBcer  in  the  king's  army. 
Rothsay,  Duke  of,  the  Prince  of  Scotland,  King 

Robert  the  Third's  eldest  son. 
Rothsay,  Margaret,  Duchess  of. 
Rougedragon,  Lady  Rachel,  Lilias  Redgauntlet's 

former  guardian. 
Rouge  Sanglier,  herald  of  William  de  la  Marck. 
Rouslaer,  Meinheer,  a  leader  of  the  discontented 

citizens  of  Liege. 
Rowena,  the  Lady,  a  ward  of  Cedric  the  Saxon, 

afterwards  married  to  Ivanhoe. 
Rowley,  one  of  Julian  Avenel's  retainers. 
Rubempre,  Monseigneur  de,  a  Burgimdian  noble- 
man. 
Rubrick,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  chaplain  to  the  Baron  of 

Bradwardine. 
Rupert,  Prince,  in  King  Charles  the  Second's  service. 
Ruthven,  Lord,  one  of  the  embassy  to  Mary, 

Queen  of  Scots. 
Rutland,  the  Duchess  of,  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 

court. 
Rutledge,  Archie,  the  constable  at  Osbaldistone 

HaU. 
Rutledge,  Gaffer,  the  farmer  of  Grimes  Hill. 
Rutledge,  Job,  a  smuggler. 
Rymar,  Mr.  Robert,  the  poet  at  the  Spa. 


Woodstock. 

Woodstock, 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Pirate. 

Waverley. 

Woodstock. 
Old  Mortality. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Redgauntlet. 
Quentin  Durward. 

Quentin  Durward. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Monastery. 

Anne  of  Geier stein. 

Waverley. 
Woodstock. 

The  Abbot. 

KenUworth. 

Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Redgauntlet. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 


Saddletree,  Bartoline,  the  learned  saddler. 
Saddletree,  Mrs.,  his  careful  helpmate. 
Sadhu  Sing,  the  mourner  of  the  desert. 
Sadoc,  Richard  Middlemas  disguised  as  a  black 

servant. 
St.  Asaph's,  the  Dean  of,  at  Queen  Elizabeth's 

court. 
St.  Botolph's,  the  prior  of. 

Saint-Cyr,  Hugh  de,  King  Rent's  seneschal  at  Aix. 
St.  Maur,  one  of  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Bceuf's 

attendants. 
Saladin,  the  Soldan  of  the  East. 
Salisbury,  the  Earl  of,  or  William  with  the  Long 

Sword,  King  Richard's  natural  brother,  one  of 

the  crusading  princes. 


The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

KenUworth. 

Ivanhoe. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Talisman. 


The  Talisman. 


357 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Sampson,  Dominie,  or  Abel  Sampson,  the  tutor  at 
EUangowan  House. 

Saunders,  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's  groom. 

Saunderson,  Saunders,  butler,  etc.,  to  Baron 
Bradwardine. 

Saville,  Lord,  a  young  nobleman  with  ChiflBnch. 

Saviola,  Vincentio,  a  fencing  master. 

Scambester,  Eric,  the  Udaller's  old  butler. 

Scholey,  Laurence,  the  Udaller's  servant. 

Schonfeldt,  Sir  Archibald  von  Hagenbach's  lieu- 
tenant. 

Schreckenwald,  Ital,  Count  Albert's  steward. 

Schwanker,  Jonas,  the  Archduke  of  Austria's 
jester. 

Scriever,  Jock,  Bailie  Macwheeble's  apprentice. 

Scroggs,  Sir  William,  one  of  the  judges. 

Scrow,  Mr.  Glossin's  clerk. 

Seaforth,  the  Earl  of,  in  King  Charles's  service. 

Sebastes  of  Mitylene,  the  assassin. 

Sebastian,  a  favoured  servant  of  Queen  Mary. 

Sebastocrator,  the,  or  Protosebastos,  a  state  oflicer. 

Sedley,  Sir  Charles,  in  Charles  the  Second's  court. 

Seelencooper,  Captain,  superintendent  of  the  mili- 
tary hospital  at  Ryde. 

Selby,  Captain,  an  officer  in  the  guards. 

Selby,  a  messenger. 

Sellok,  Cisly  or  Sisley,  a  servant  girl  at  Lady 
Peveril's. 

Semple,  John,  a  Presbyterian  clergyman. 

Semple,  Mrs.,  the  Duchess  of  Argyle's  'own 
woman.' 

Seth,  a  servant  at  the  Jew's  friend's  house. 

Settle,  Elkana,  the  poet. 

Seyton,  Catherine,  one  of  Queen  Mary's  maids  of 
honour. 

Seyton,  Lord,  her  father,  a  supporter  of  Queen 
Mary's  cause. 

Seyton,  Henry,  Catherine's  twin  brother. 

Shaftesbury,  Anthony  Ashley  Cooper,  Earl  of. 

Shafton,  Ned,  one  of  the  prisoners  in  Newgate 
with  old  Sir  Hildebrand  Osbaldistone. 

Shafton,  Sir  Piercie,  a  fashionable  cavalier,  grand- 
son of  old  Overstitch,  the  tailor. 

Shakebag,  Dick,  a  highwayman  with  Captain 
Colepepper. 

Shakespeare,  William. 

Sharp,  Right  Rev.  James.  Archbishop  of  St. 
Andrew's,  murdered  by  Balfour  and  his  party. 

Sharpe,  a  pirate  of  the  'true  breed.' 

Sharper,  Master,  the  cutler  in  the  Strand. 

Sharpitlaw,  Gideon,  the  police-officer. 

Shavings,  the  Fairport  carpenter. 


Guy  Mannering. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Waverley. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Pirate. 
The  Pirate. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Talisman. 

Waverley. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Guy  Mannering. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Abbot. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Woodstock. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Redgauntlet. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Ivanhoe. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Abbot. 
The  Abbot. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak, 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Woodstock  and  Kenilwortk 

Old  Mortality. 
The  Pirate. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Antiquary, 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Sheba,  the  Queen  of,  a  name  given  to  Madame 

Montreville. 
Shemus  an  Snachad,  or  James  of  the  Needle, 

Mac-Ivor's  tailor. 
Shoolbred,  Dame,  Henry  Smith's  foster  mother. 
Shortcake,  Mrs.,  the  baker's  wife,  a  friend  of  Mrs. 

Mailsetter. 
Shorten,  Master,  the  mercer  at  Liverpool. 
Shortyard,  the  mercer. 
Shrewsbury,  Lord,  the  earl  marshal. 
Sibbald,  an  attendant  on  the  Earl  of  Menteith. 
Sigismund,  Emperor  of  Austria. 
Silverquill,  Sam,  one  of  the  prisoners  at  Portan- 

ferry. 
Simmie,  the  turnspit  at  Glendearg. 
Simmons,  Widow,  the  seamstress,  a  neighbour  of 

the  Ramsays. 
Simon  of  Hackburn,  a  friend  of  Hobbie  Elliot. 
Simson,  Jean,  an  old  woman  at  Middlemas  village. 
Simson,  Tarn,  the  drunken  barber. 
Sinclair,  father-in-law  of  Magnus  Troil. 
Skelton,  Sam,  a  smuggler. 
Skreigh,  Mr.,  the  precentor. 
Skurliewhitter,  Andrew,  the  scrivener. 
Sludge,  Gammer,  the  Schoolmaster's  landlady, 

near  White  Horse  Vale. 
Sludge,  Dickie,  her  son,  or  '  Flibbertigibbet. ' 
Sma'trash,  Eppie,  the  ale-woman  at  Wolf's  Hope 

village. 
Smith,  Henry,  or  Henry  Gow,  or  Gow  Chrom,  or 

Hal  of  the  Wynd,  the  armourer,  Catharine 

Glover's  lover. 
Smith,  Wayland,  attendant  on  Edmund  Tressilian. 
Smotherwell,  Stephen,  the  executioner. 
Snail,  the  collector  of  customs,  near  Ellangowan 

House. 
Snailsfoot,  Bryce,  the  jagger  or  pedlar. 
Soles,  a  shoemaker,  a  witness  at  the  examination 

of  Dirk  Hatteraick. 
Solmes,  confidential  valet  to  the  Earl  of  Ethering- 

ton. 
Solsgrace,  Master  Nehemiah,  the  Presbyterian 

pastor. 
Sommerville,  Mr.,  Chrystal    Croftangry's  coun- 
sellor. 
Souplejaw,  Saunders,  the  'second-sighted'  shoe- 
maker. 
Sowerbrowst,  Mr.,  the  maltster. 
Spenser,  Edmund. 
Spittal,  or  Spitfire,  Will,  Roger  Wildrake's  serving 

boy. 
Spontoon,  Colonel  Talbot's  confidential  servant. 


The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Waverley. 

The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 

The  Antiquary. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Kenilworth. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Guy  Mannering. 
The  Monastery. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
The  Pirate. 
Redgauntlet. 
Guy  Mannering. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Kenilworth. 
Kenilworth. 

The  Bride  of  Lammernuor, 


The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Guy  Mannering. 
The  Pirate. 

Guy  Mannering. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Highland  Widow. 

Quentin  Durward. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Kenilworth. 

Woodstock. 
Waverley. 


359 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Sprenger,  Martin  or  Louis,  Annette  Veilchen's 

bachelor. 
Spruch-sprecher,  the,  or  sayer  of  sayings  to  the 

Archduke  of  Austria. 
Spur'em,  Dick,  one  of  Mac-GuSog's  men. 
Stair,  the  Earl  of. 

Stanchells,  the  head  jailer  at  the  Glasgow  tolbooth. 
Standish,  Mr.  Justice,  a  magistrate. 
Stanley,  Frank,  nephew  of  Colonel  Talbot. 
Stanley,  in  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  train. 
Staples,  Lawrence,  the  head  jailer  at  Kenilworth 

Castle. 
Staunton,  George,  afterwards  Sir  George. 
Staunton,  the  Rev.    Mr.,  his  father,  rector  of 

Willingham. 
Steele,  Christie,  landlady  of  the  Treddles  Arms. 
Steenson,  Willie,  or  Wandering  Willie,  the  blind 

fiddler. 
Steenson,  Maggie,  or  Epps  Anslie,  his  wife. 
Steenson,   Sandie,  one  of  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's 

friends. 
Steenson,  Steenie,  the  piper  in  Wandering  Willie's 

tale. 
Steinemherz  von  Blut-Sacker,  Francis,  the  Scharf- 

gerichter. 
Steinfeldt,  the  old  Baroness  of. 
Stephanos  the  Wrestler. 
Stephen,  one  of  Sir  Reginald  Front-de-Boeuf's 

attendants. 
Stephen,    Count,    the    Count    of    Crfevecoeur's 

nephew. 
Stevens,  a  messenger  of  the  Earl  of  Sussex. 
Stewart,  Allan,  of  Iverach. 
Stewart,  Colonel,  governor  of  the  Castle  of  Doune. 
Stormheaven,  Boanerges,  David  Deans's  favour- 
ite preacher. 
Strauchan,  old.  Sir  Kenneth's  armour-bearer. 
Strickalthrow,  Merciful,  in  Cromwell's  troop. 
Strumpfer,  Nick,  the  dwarf. 
Stuart,  Prince  Charles  Edward,  the  young  Cheva- 
lier, or  the  Pretender. 
Stuart,   Prince     Charles    Edward,  disguised    as 

Father  Buonaventure. 
Stubbs,  the  beadle  at  Willingham. 
Stubbs,  Miss  Sissly,  or  Cecilia,  a  neighbour  of  the 

Waverleys. 
Sturmthal,  Melchior,  the  Banneret  of  Berne,  one 

the  Swiss  deputies. 
Suddlechop,  Dame  Ursula,  or  Ursley,  a  gossip  and 

nurse. 
Suddlechop,  Benjamin,  the  barber,  her  spouse. 

360 


Anne  of  Geier stein. 

The  Talisman. 
Guy  Mannering. 
My  Aunt  Margaret's  Mir- 
ror. 
Rob  Roy. 
Rob  Roy. 
Waverley. 
Kenilworth. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 
The  Highland  Widow. 

Redgauntlet. 
Redgauntlet. 

Rob  Roy. 

Redgauntlet. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
A  nne  of  Geierstein. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Ivanhoe. 

Quenlin  Durward. 
Kenilworth, 
Rob  Roy. 
Waverley. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Talisman. 
Woodstock. 
The  Pirate. 

Waverley. 

Redgauntlet. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian, 

Waverley. 

Anne  of  Geierstein, 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel, 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Sussex,  the  Earl  of,  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  court, 

a  rival  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 
Swanston,  a  smuggler. 
Sweepclean,  Saunders,  a  king's  messenger. 
Swertha,  the  elder  Mertoun's  old  housekeeper. 
Syddall,  Anthony,  the  house-steward  at  Osbaldi- 

stone  Hall. 

Tacket,  Martin,  the  old  shepherd  who  gave  the 

Lady  of  Avenel  refuge. 
Tacket,  Tibb,  his  wife. 

TaflFril,  Lieutenant,  in  love  with  Jenny  Caxon. 
Talbot,  Colonel,  a  friend  of  Waverley's. 
Tallbey,  the  forester  of  St.  Mary's  convent. 
Tam  o'  Todshaw,  a  huntsman,  near  Charlie's  Hope 

farm. 
Tamson,  Peg,  an  old  woman  at  Middlemas  vil- 
lage. 
Tancred,  Prince  of  Otranto,  one  of  the  crusading 

princes. 
Tatius,  Achilles,  the  Acolyte,  or  Follower  of  the 

emperor,  an  officer  in  the  Varangian  Guard. 
Templeton,  Laurence,  a  fictitious  writer. 
Ternotte,  one  of  Lady  Eveline's  attendants. 
Thackham,  Jane,  afterward  Dame  Goldthred. 
Theodorick,  the  hermit  of  Engaddi,  or  Alberick  of 

Mortemar,  an  exiled  nobleman. 
Theresa,  Sister,  with  Flora  Mac-Ivor  at  Carlisle. 
Thiebault,  a  Provencal,  one  of  Arthur  Philipson's 

escort  to  Aix. 
Thimblethwaite,  Timothy,  a  London  friend  of 

Claud  Halcro. 
Thomas  the  Rhymer,  or  Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  an 

ancient  Scottish  bard. 
Thoresby,  Broad,  in  Fitzurse's  troop. 
Thornhaugh,  Colonel,  in  Cromwell's  troop. 
Thornton,  Captain,  an  English  officer. 
Threeplie,  Deacon,  the  rope  spinner. 
Thwacker,  Quarter-master,  in  the  dragoons. 
Tider,  Robin,  a  servant  of  the  Earl  of  Leicester. 
Timothy,  the  old  ostler  at  John  Mengs's  inn. 
Tims,  Corporal,  in  Waverley's  regiment. 
Tinto,  Dick,  the  painter. 

Tippoo  Saib,  Prince,  son  of  Hyder  AH. 
Tirlsneck,  Johnnie,  the  beadle  at  Old  St.  Ronan's. 
Toby,  the  waiter  at  the  Spa  hotel. 
Toison  d'Or,  the  Burgundian  herald. 

Tomahourich,   Muhme  Janet  of,   an  old  sibyl, 

Robin  Gig's  aunt. 
Tomkins,  Joseph,  Cromwell's  emissary. 

361 


Kenilworth. 
Redgauntlet. 
The  Aniiquary. 
The  Pirate. 

Rob  Roy. 


The  Monastery. 
The  Monastery. 
The  Antiquary. 
Waverley. 
The  Monastery. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris, 

Ivanhoe. 
The  Betrothed. 
Kenilworth. 

The  Talisman, 

Waverley. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Pirate. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

Ivanhoe. 

Woodstock. 

Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Redgauntlet. 

Kenilworth. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Waverley. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoot 

and  St.  Ronan's  Well. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Quentin  Durward  and 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Two  Drovers. 
Woodstock. 


PRINCIPAL  CHARACTERS 


Topham,  Master  Charles,  the  usher  of  the  black 
rod. 

Torfe,  George,  the  provost  of  Orkney. 

Tormot,  Torquil  of  the  Oak's  youngest  son. 

Torquil  of  the  Oak,  Eachin  Maclan's  foster-father. 

Toshach  Beg,  at  the  combat. 

Touchwood,  Mr.  Peregrine  Scrogie,  the  traveller, 
a  relation  of  the  Mowbrays. 

Tough,  Mr.,  an  old  barrister. 

Touthope,  Mr.  Clerk,  a  Scotch  attorney. 

Toxartis,  a  Scythian  soldier,  killed  by  the  Countess 
Brenhilda. 

Tracy,  in  the  Earl  of  Sussex's  train. 

Tramp,  Gaffer,  a  peasant  at  the  execution  of  old 
Meg  Murdockson. 

Trapbois,  the  old  miser  of  Alsatia. 

Trapbois,  Martha,  his  daughter,  afterwards  mar- 
ried to  Richie  Moniplies. 

Tresham,  Mr.,  Mr.  Osbaldistone's  partner. 

Tresham,  Richard,  Richard  Middlemas. 

Tressilian,  Edmund,  to  whom  Amy  Robsart  was 
betrothed. 

Tristan  I'Hermite,  Louis  the  Eleventh's  provost- 
marshal. 

Tristrem  of  the  hospital. 

Troil,  Magnus,  the  old  Udaller  of  Zetland. 

Troil,  Minna,  his  eldest  daughter,  in  love  with  the 
Pirate. 

Troil,  Brenda,  her  sister,  afterwards  married  to 
Mordaunt  Mertoun. 

Trois-Eschelles,  an  executioner. 

Trotcosey,  Abbot. 

Trotter,  Nelly,  the  fishwoman  near  St.  Ronan's 
old  town. 

Trumbull,  Thomas,  or  Tom  Turnpenny,  the  cant- 
ing smuggler. 

Tuck,  Friar,  the  holy  clerk  of  Copmanhurst. 

Tuck,  Thomas,  or  Tyburn  Tom,  the  footpad. 

Tull,  Rab,  town  clerk  of  Fairport. 

Tunstall,  Frank,  one  of  David  Ramsay's  appren- 
tices. 

Turnbull,  Michael,  the  Douglas  huntsman. 

Turner,  Mrs.,  Dame  Suddlechop's  patroness. 

Turnpenny,  Mr.,  the  banker  at  Marchthorn. 

Turntippet,  Lord,  one  of  the  privy  council. 

Twigtythe,  Rev.  Mr.,  the  clergyman  at  Farmer 
WiUiams's. 

Tyre,  Archbishop  of,  with  the  crusaders. 

Tyrie,  one  of  the  archers  of  the  Scottish  Guard. 

Tyrie,  the  Rev.  Michael,  minister  of  Glenorquhy. 

Tyrrel,  Frank,  son  of  the  late  Earl  of  Etherington 
and  his  wife  La  Comtesse  de  Martigny. 

362 


Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 
The  Fair  Maid  oj  Perth. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlel. 
Rob  Roy. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 
Kenilworlh. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Kenilworth. 
Quentin  Durward  and 
A  nne  of  Geierstein, 
A  nne  of  Geierstein. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Pirate. 

The  Pirate. 
Quentin  Durward.' 
The  Antiquary, 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

Redgauntlet. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothiatt. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Castle  Dangerous. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Waverley. 
The  Talisman. 
Quentin  Durward. 
The  Highland  Widow. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Ulrica,  daughter  »f  the  late  Thane  of  Torquilstone.  Ivanhoe. 


Una,  one  of  Flora  Mac-Ivor's  attendants. 
Unreason,  the  Abbot  of,  or  Father  Howleglas. 
Urrie,  Sir  John,  a  military  leader. 
Ursel,  the  imprisoned  rival  of  the  Emperor  Alexius. 
Ursula,  Sister,  a  name  assumed  by  the  Lady 
Margaret  de  Hautlieu. 

Valence,  Sir  Aymer  de,  Sir  John  de  Walton's 

lieutenant. 
Vanda,  the  spirit  of  the  lady  with  the  red  hand. 
Vanwelt,  Jan,  Rose  Flammock's  supposed  suitor. 
Varney,   Sir   Richard,   the   Earl   of   Leicester's 

master  of  the  horse. 
Vaughan,  Basil,  see  Mertoun,  Basil. 
Vaughan,  Clement,  see  Cleveland,  Captain. 
Vaughan,  Father,  see  Vernon,  Sir  Frederick. 
Vehmique  Tribunal,  the,  the  Secret  Tribunal  or 

Court  of  the  Holy  Vehme. 
Veilchen,  Annette,  Anne  of  Geierstein's  attend- 
ant. 
Vere,  Sir  Arthur  de,  son  of  the  Earl  of  Oxford. 
Vere,   Mr.  Richard,   the  Laird  of  EUieslaw,   a 

Jacobite  conspirator. 
Vere,  Letitia,  his  wife. 

Vere,  Miss  Isabella,  his  daughter,  afterwards  mar- 
ried to  young  Earnscliff. 
Vermandois,  Hugh,  Count  of,  brother  of  the  King 

of  France. 
Vernon,  Diana,  niece  to  Sir  Hildebrand  Osbaldi- 

stone. 
Vernon,   Sir   Frederick,   her  father,   a  political 

intriguer,  first  disguised  as  Father  Vaughan. 
Vexhelia,  the  wife  of  Osmund,  the  old  Varangian 

guard. 
Vincent,  Jenkin,  or  Jin  Vin,  one  of  old  Ramsay's 

apprentices,  in  love  with  Margaret  Ramsay. 
Violante,   an  attendant  on  the  Princess  Anna 

Comnena. 
Vipont,  Sir  Ralph  de,  a  knight  of  St.  John,  one  of 

the  knights  challengers. 
Vorst,  Peterkin,  the  sleeping  sentinel  at  the  Castle. 

Wabster,  Michael,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 
Wakefield,  Harry,  the  English  drover,  killed  by 

Robin  Oig. 
Wakeman,  Sir  George,  the  queen's  physician. 
Waldeck,  Martin,  the  miner. 
Waldstetten,  the  Countess  of,  a  relative  of  the 

Baron  of  Arnheim. 
Walkinshaw,  Mrs.,  the  Pretender's  mistress. 
Wallace,  William,  the  Champion  of  Scotland. 

363 


Waverley. 

The  Abbot. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose, 

Count  Robert  oj  Paris. 

Castle  Dangerous. 


Castle  Dangerous. 
The  Betrothed. 
The  Betrothed. 


Kenilworth. 


Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 
The  Black  Dwarf. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris, 

Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  Two  Drovers. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Antiquary. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 
Redgauntlet. 
Castle  Dangerous. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Wallenrode,  the  Earl  of,  a  Hungarian  noble,  a 

crusader. 
VValsingham,  Sir  Francis,  of  Queen  Elizabeth's 

court. 
Waltheof,  Father,  a  Grey  Friar,  confessor  of  the 

Duchess  of  Rothsay. 
WaltheoS,  the  Abbot,  of  St.  Withold's  convent. 
Walton,  Sir  John  de,  governor  of  Douglas  Castle. 
Wamba,  the  son  of  Witless,  the  jester  at  Rother- 

wood. 
Warden,  Henry,  the  Protestant  preacher,  alias 

Henry  Wellwood. 
Warden,    Henry,    the    Protestant    chaplain    at 

Avenel  Castle. 
Wardlaw,  the  land  steward  at  Osbaldistone  Hall. 
Wardlaw,  Henry,  Archbishop  of  St.  Andrews. 
Wardour,  Sir  Anthony,  father  of  Sir  Arthur. 
Wardour,  Sir  Arthur,  of  Knockwinnock  Castle. 
Wardour,  Isabella,  his  daughter,  afterwards  mar- 
ried to  Lord  Geraldin. 
Wardour,  Captain  Reginald,  her  brother. 
Wardour,  Sir  Richard,  or  Richard  with  the  Red 

Hand,  an  ancestor  of  Sir  Arthur. 
Watkins,  William,  the  Prince  of  Scotland's  Eng- 
lish attendant. 
Waverley,  Captain  Edward. 
Waverley,  Mr.  Richard,  his  father. 
Waverley,  Sir  Everard,  Edward's  uncle. 
Waverley,  Mistress  Rachel,  Sir  Everard's  sister. 
Wayland,  Lancelot,  or  Wayland  Smith,  the  farrier 

in  the  vale  of  Whitehorse. 
Weatherport,  Captain,  a  naval  officer. 
Weiver,  the  preacher,  an  old  conspirator. 
Wellwood,  Henry,  see  Warden,  Henry. 
Wellwood,  Sophia,  afterward  Mrs.  Mannering. 
Wenlock,  the  besieged  Englishman  whom  Damian 

de  Lacy  went  to  relieve. 
Westenho,    Captain,    an   old    friend   of   Captain 

Craigengelt. 
Wetheral,    Stephen,   or   Stephen   Steelheart,   in 

Fitzurse's  troop. 
Wetzweiler,  Tiel,  or  Le  Glorieux,  the  Duke  of 

Burgundy's  court  jester. 
Whackbairn,  Mr.,  the  schoolmaster  at  Liberton. 
Whalley,  Richard,  the  regicide. 
Whistler,  the,  the  young  outlaw  who  shot  his 

father.  Sir  George  Staunton. 
Whitaker,  Richard,    Sir    Geoffrey  Peveril's   old 

steward. 
Whitecraft,  John,  the  innkeeper  and  miller  at 

Altringham. 
Whitecraft,  Dame,  his  pretty  wife. 

364 


The  Talisman. 

Kenilworth. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Ivanhoe. 

Castle  Dangerous, 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Monastery. 

The  Abbot. 

Rob  Roy. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

The  A  ntiquary. 

The  Antiquary,  j 

The  Antiquary. 
The  Antiquary. 

The  Antiquary. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

Waverley. 
Waverley. 
Waverley. 
Waverley. 

Kenilworth. 
The  Pirate. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Betrothed. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Ivanhoe. 

Quentin  Durward. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 


I 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Wildblood,  'young  Dick  Wildblood  of  the  Dale,'  a 

friend  of  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril. 
Wildfire,  Madge,  the  mad  woman. 
Wildrake,  Roger,  a  dissipated  Royalist. 
Wilfred,  Cedric's  son,  knight  of  Ivanhoe. 
Wilkinson,  James,  Mr.  Fairford's  servant. 
Will-o'-the-Flat,    one    of    the    huntsmen    near 

Charlie's  Hope  farm. 
William,  King  of  Scotland. 
William,  a  serving  lad  at  Arnheim  Castle. 
Williams,  Ned,  Cicely  Jopson's  sweetheart. 
Williams,  Farmer,  his  father. 
Willie,  Andrew  Skurliewhitter's  clerk. 
Willieson,   William,    a   brig-owner,   one   of   the 

Jacobite  conspirators. 
Willoughby,  Lord,  of  Queen  Elizabeth's  court. 
Wilmot,  Lord,  or  the  Earl  of  Rochester. 
Wilsa,  Dame  Ursley  Suddlechop's  mulatto  girl. 
Wilson,  Alison,  the  old  housekeeper  at  Milnwood. 
Wilson,  Andrew,  the  smuggler,  Geordie  Robert- 
son's comrade. 
Wilson,  Bob,  Sir  William  Ashton's  groom. 
Wilson,  Christy,  one  of  the  party  in  the  Wallace 

Inn. 
Wilson,  John,  Colonel  Mannering's  groom. 
Win-the-Fight,  Master  Joachim,  Major  Bridge- 
north's  attorney. 
Winchester,  the  Bishop  of. 
Windsor,  the  Rev.  Mr.,  a  friend  of  Master  George 

Heriot. 
Wing-the-Wind,  Michael,  a  servant  at  Holyrood 

Palace,  a  friend  of  Adam  Woodcock. 
Wingate,  Master  Jasper,  the  steward  at  Avenel 

Castle. 
Wingfield,  the  feather  dresser,  a  citizen  of  Perth. 
Wingfield,  Ambrose,  employed  at  Osbaldistone 

Hall. 
Wing6eld,  Lancie,  a  spy  for  Clerk  Jobson. 
Winkelbrand,  Louis,  De  Bracy's  lieutenant. 
Winnie,  Annie,  an  old  sibyl. 
Winter,  General  Witherington's  head  servant. 
Winterblossom,  Mr.  Philip,  'the  man  of  taste,'  at 

the  Spa. 
Wisheart,  the  Rev.  Dr.,  the  Earl  of  Montrose's 

chaplain. 
Witherington,  General,  alias  Richard  Tresham. 
Witherington,  Mrs.,  his  wife,  formerly  ZiUa  de 

Monfada. 
Wittenbold,  a  Dutch  commandant  in  the  king's 

service. 
Wolfganger,  Torquil,  Ulrica's  father. 
Wolfram,  Abbot  of  St.  Edmund's. 


Peveril  of  Ike  Peak, 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

Woodstock. 

Ivanhoe. 

Redgauntlet. 

Guy  Mannering. 

The  Talisman. 

Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Waverley. 

Waverley. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Black  Dwarf. 

Kenilworlh, 

Woodstock. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

Old  Mortality. 

The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
The  Bride  of  Lammermoor, 

The  Black  Dwarf. 
Guy  Mannering. 

Peveril  of  the  Peak. 
The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Abbot. 

The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth, 

Rob  Roy. 

Rob  Roy. 

Ivanhoe. 

The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

St.  Ronan's  Well. 

A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

The  Surgeon's  Daughter. 

Old  Mortality. 

Ivanhoe. 

Ivanhoe. 


PRINCIPAL   CHARACTERS 


Woodcock,  Adam,  the  falconer  at  Avenel  Castle. 
Woodstall,  Henry,  in  King  Richard's  guard. 
Woodstock,  the  Mayor  of. 
Woodville,  Lord,  a  friend  of  General  Browne. 
Wylie,  Andrew,  Bailie  Nicol  Jarvie's  former  clerk. 
Wyvil,  William  de,  a  steward  of  the  field  at  the 
tournament. 

Yellowley,  Triptolemus,  the  experimental  agri- 
culturist. 

Yellowley,  old  Jasper,  his  father. 

Yellowley,  Mistress  Baby,  or  Barbara,  his  sister 
and  housekeeper. 

Yoglan,  Zacharias,  the  old  Jewish  chemist  in 
London. 

Yolande  of  Anjou,  daughter  of  King  Ren6. 

York,  James,  Duke  of,  brother  of  King  Charles 
the  Second. 

York,  Geoffrey,  Archbishop  of,  one  of  the  high 
justiciaries  of  England  in  King  Richard's 
absence. 

Zarah,  see  Fenella. 

Zedekiah,  one  of  General  Harrison's  servants. 

Zimmerman,  Adam,  the  old  burgher  of  Soleure, 

one  of  the  Swiss  deputies. 
Zohauk,  the  Nubian  slave,  a  disguise  assumed  by 

Sir  Kenneth. 
Zosimus,  the  patriarch  of  the  Greek  Church. 
Zulichium,  the  enchanted  Princess  of. 


The  Abbot. 

The  Talisman. 

Woodstock. 

The  Tapestried  Chamber, 

Rob  Roy. 

Ivanhoe. 


The  Pirate. 
The  Pirate. 

The  Pirate. 

KenUworth. 
Anne  of  Geier stein, 

Woodstock, 


The  Talisman. 


Woodstock. 

Anne  of  Geier  stein. 

The  Talisman. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris, 
Count  Robert  of  Faria, 


III.  ANIMAL  FAVOURITES 
Dogs 

Balder,  Cedric's  grisly  old  wolf-dog.  Ivanhoe. 

Ban,  one  of  Baron  Bradwardine's  deerhounds.    Waverley. 

Bash  and  Battle,  two  of  the  king's  staghoimds.  The  Fortunes  of 

Nigel. 
Bawty,  Donald  Bean  Lean's  dog.  Waverley. 
Belzie,  Duke  Hildebrod's  bvdl-dog,  that  'never  flew  but  at  head 

in  his  life.*  The  Fortunes  of  Nigel. 
Bevis,  Sir  Henry  Lee's  faithful  hound,  'one  of  the  handsomest 

and  most  active  of  the  ancient  Highland  deerhounds,  had  his 

prototype  in  a  dog  called  Maida,'  of  whom  Landseer  made  a 

famous  picture.  Woodstock. 
Bingo,  Colonel  Mannering's  'little  mongrel  cur,  with  bandy  legs, 

a  long  back,  and  huge  flopping  ears.'  Guy  Mannering. 
Bran,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's  large  greyhound.  Waverley. 
Bungay,  Sir  Hugh  Robsart's  favourite  dog.  Kenilworth. 
Buscar,  one  of  Baron  Bradwardine's  deerhounds.  Waverley. 
Chariot,  the  little  French  spaniel  of  Louise  the  glee-maiden.   The 

Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Dustiefoot,  Jeanie  Deans's  little  dog.   The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 
Elphin,  the  cocking  spaniel  that  recognized  Harry  Morton  when 

he  returned  from  exUe.  Old  Mortality. 
Fangs,  Gurth's  'ragged,  wolfish-looking  dog.*  Ivanhoe. 
Gorgon,  a  hunting  bitch  belonging  to  Charles  the  Bold.  Anne  of 

Geierstein. 
Hemp,  little  Benjie  Coltherd's  'lurcher.*  Redgauntlet. 
Juno,  Hector  M'Intyre's  spaniel.  The  Antiquary. 
Killbuck,  Hobbie  Elliot's  deerhound,  that  killed  one  of  the  Black 

Dwarf's  goats.   The  Black  Dwarf. 
Lucy,  John  Osbaldistone's  black  spaniel.  Rob  Roy. 
Mustard  and  Pepper,  Dandy  Dinmont's  terriers.  Guy  Mannering. 
Neptune,  one  of  John  Davies's  dogs.  Redgauntlet. 
Plato,  Colonel  Mannering's  favourite  spaniel.  Guy  Mannering. 
Ranger,  one  of  Frank  Kennedy's  dogs.  Guy  Mannering. 
Roswal,  the  faithful  stag  greyhound  of  Sir  Kenneth  of  Scotland. 

The  Talisman. 
Snap,  Madge  Wildfire's  little  dog.  The  Heart  of  Midlothian. 

.367 


ANIMAL   FAVOURITES 

Tearum,  the  gaunt  mastiflE  watch  dog  at  Portanferry  jail.   Guy 

Mannering. 
Thetis,  one  of  John  Davies's  dogs.  Redgauntlct. 
Thryme,  the  Lady  of  Baldringham's  large  old  wolf-dog.    The 

Betrothed. 
Trimmer,  John  Mowbray's  favovirite  hound,  that  'beat  the  whole 

country.'  St.  Ronan's  Well. 
Wasp,  Vanbeest  Brown's  rough  terrier.  Guy  Mannering. 
Whistler,  the  Laird  of  Balmawhapple's  greyhound.  Waverley. 
Wolf,  the  staghound  that  saved  Roland  Graeme  from  drowning. 

The  Abbot. 
Wolf-Fanger,  Rudolph  of  Donnerhugel's  bloodhound.    Anne  of 

Geierstein. 
Yarrow,  Dandy  Dinmont's  sheepdog.  Guy  Mannering. 

Horses 

Apollyon,  Herman  von  Arnheim's  favourite  jet-black  horse, 
Anne  of  Geierstein. 

Ball,  Mysie  Happer's  palfrey.  The  Monastery. 

Bayard,  the  palfrey  that  Wayland  Smith  appropriated  for  Amy 
Robsart.  Kenilworth. 

Benedict,  the  sober  palfrey  of  Abbot  Boniface.   The  Monastery. 

Bergen,  Magnus  Troil's  horse,  'a  strong,  square-made,  well- 
barrelled  palfrey,  of  Norwegian  breed.'   The  Pirate. 

Berwick,  Baron  Bradwardine's  charger.  Waverley. 

Black  Hastings,  Sir  Geoffrey  Peveril's  war-horse.  Peveril  of  the 
Peak. 

Black  Moor,  the  led  horse  of  the  Master  of  Ravenswood.  The 
Bride  of  Lammermoor. 

Dermid,  Fergus  Mac-Ivor's  brown  mare.  Waverley. 

Dobbin,  the  horse  that  Widow  Raine  lent  to  Julian  Peveril. 
Pa'eril  of  the  Peak. 

Dumple,  Dandy  Dinmont's  galloway  pony,  so  strong  that  he 
'could  carry  six  folk,  if  his  back  was  lang  enough.'  Guy  Man- 
nering. 

Fairy,  Julian  Peveril's  handsome  Manx  pony,  'of  a  high-spirited 
mountain  breed,  remarkable  alike  for  hardiness,  for  longevity, 
and  for  a  degree  of  sagacity  approaching  to  that  of  the  dog.' 
Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Gauntlet,  the  horse  that  Simon  Glover  rode  when  he  fled  to  Neil 
Booshalloch's  cottage.  The  Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 

368 


ANIMAL   FAVOURITES 

Grey  Gilbert,  one  of  Bucklaw's  horses.  The  Bride  of  Lammermoor. 
Gustavus,    Dugald   Dalgetty's   horse,    named   after    Gustavus 

Adolphus.  A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Jemima,  a  brood  mare  belonging  to  the  Earl  of  Glenallan.   The 

Antiquary. 
Jezabel,  Oliver  Proudfute's  'great  trampling  Flemish  mare.*  The 

Fair  Maid  of  Perth. 
Kilsythe,  Major  Bellenden's  horse.  Old  Mortality. 
Klepper,  Hayraddin  Maugrabbin's  active  little  jennet.  Quentin 

Durward. 
Loyalty's  Reward,  the  horse  given  to  Dalgetty  by  Montrose  when 

Gustavus  was  killed.  A  Legend  of  Montrose. 
Mad  Tom,  one  of  the  Earl  of  Glenallan's  stallions.    The  AntU 

qiiary. 
Mahound,  the  old  huntsman's  Arab  horse  'with  a  temper  as 

vicious  as  that  of  a  fiend,'  The  Betrothed. 
Malkin,  the  'ambling  jennet'  of  the  Prior  of  St.  Botolph.  Ivanhoe. 
Moorkoff,  the  horse  that  Harry  Morton  rode  when  seeking  the 

aid  of  Wittenbold  and  his  German  troop.  Old  Mortality. 
Pestle  and  Mortar,  Dr.  Gray's  two  ponies  which  he  used  alter- 
nately.  The  Surgeon^ s  Daughter. 
Phoebe,  Diana  Vernon's  beautiful  horse.  Roh  Roy. 
Pixie,  Sir  Henry  Lee's  pony,  'diminutive,  but  full  of  spirit.* 

Woodstock. 
Roan  Robin,  the  horse  that  Darsie  Latimer  rode  on  his  tour  to  the 

south  of  Scotland.  Red  gauntlet. 
Rory  Bean,  the  Laird  of  Dumbiedikes's  'powny.'   The  Heart  of 

Midlothian. 
Rosabelle,  Queen  Mary's  favourite  horse,  'never  matched  in 

Scotland  for  swiftness,  for  ease  of  motion,  and  for  sureness  of 

foot.'   The  Abbot. 
Satan,  Adam  Woodcock's  'vicious  devil  of  a  brown  Galloway 

nag.'   The  Abbot. 
Shagram,  the  old  horse  that  Mary  Avenel  rode  when  driven  from 

home.   The  Monastery. 
Sloth,  Wilkin  Flammock's  '  Flanderkin  elephant  of  a  horse.*  The 

Betrothed. 
Solomon,  Joshua  Geddes's  iron-grey  galloway.  Redgauntlet. 
Sorrel,  Sir  Hugh  Robsart's  hunter.  Kenilworth. 
Souple  Sam,  the  'blood-bay  beast,  very  ill  o'  the  spavin,'  that 

Guy  Mannering  rode  on  his  first  visit  to  Ellangowan.   Guy 

Mannering. 

a  369 


ANIMAL   FAVOURITES 

Souple  Tam,  the  *  three-legged  palfrey  '  of  Andrew  Fairservice. 
Rob  Roy. 

Tarras,  Hobbie  Elliot's  horse.  The  Black  Dwarf. 

Tom  with  the  Tod's  Tail,  the  Lord  Abbot's  ranger.  The  Monas- 
tery. 

Wildblood,  the  horse  that  Claverhouse  rode  to  Drumshinnel. 
Old  Mortality. 

Yarico,  one  of  the  Earl  of  Glenallan's  blood  mares.  The  Anti- 
quary. 

Yseulte,  the  horse  that  Eveline  Berenger  rode  when  she  left 
Baldringham.  The  Betrothed. 

Zamor,  Brian  de  Bois-Guilbert's  horse,  won  from  the  Soldan  of 
Trebizond.  Ivanhoe. 

Other  Animals 

Crombie,  the  one  cow  left  at  the  nunnery  of  St.  Catherine.  The 
Abbot. 

Crummie  and  Grizzy,  two  of  the  cows  stolen  from  Martin 
Tackett.  The  Monastery. 

Gowans,  Jeanie  Deans's  'brockit  cow.'  The  Heart  of  Mid- 
lothian. 

Gibbon,  the  Earl  of  Derby's  pet  monkey.  Peveril  of  the  Peak. 

Major  Weir,  Sir  Robert  Redgavmtlet's  'ill-favoured  jackanape.' 
Redgauntlet. 

Sylvanus,  the  orang-outang  in  the  prison  of  Alexius  Comneniis. 
Count  Robert  of  Paris. 

Cheviot,  Diana  Vernon's  falcon.  Rob  Roy. 

Diamond,  Sir  Halbert  Glendinning's  favourite  falcon.  The  Abbot. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST 
MINSTREL 

EARLY  BALLADS  AND  LYRICS 

BY 

SIR  WALTER  SCOTT 


BOSTON  AND  NEW  YORK 
HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 


COPYRIGHT,  1 91 3 

BY  HOUGHTON  MIFFLIN  COMPANY 

ALL  RIGHTS  RESERVED 


CONTENTS 

Biographical  Sketch xi 

Two  Ballads  from  the  German  of  Burger 

WILLIAM  AND   HELEN 3 

THE   WILD  HUNTSMAN l6 

Early  Ballads  and  Lyrics 

a  translation  from  virgil  • 3 1 

on  a  thunder-storm 32 

on  the  setting  sun 33 

the  violet 34 

to  a  lady  with  flowers  from  a  roman  wall  35 

the  erl-king,  from  the  german  of  goethe  36 
war-song  of  the  royal  edinburgh  light 

dragoons 38 

/SONG  FROM  'GOETZ  VON  BERLICHINGEN'    .      .      .  41 
SONGS   FROM   'tHE  HOUSE   OF  ASPEN ' 

i.  *joy  to  the  victors,  the  sons  of  old 

aspen' 42 

n.  'sweet  shone  the  sun  on  the  fair 

LAKE   OF  TORO' 43 

ni.  rhein-wein  lied 44 

GLENFINLAS,   OR   LORD  RONALD'S   CORONACH       .  45 

THE  EVE   OF   SAINT  JOHN 59 

V 


CONTENTS 

THE   GREY  BROTHER 69 

THE  FIRE-KING 75 

BOTHWELL  CASTLE 83 

THE   shepherd's   TALE 85 

CHEVIOT 94 

FREDERICK   AND   ALICE 95 

CADYOW   CASTLE lOO 

THE  reiver's   WEDDING IIO 

Christie's  will 115 

thomas  the  rhymer 121 

THE   bard's   INCANTATION I36 

hellvellyn 139 

The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel 

author's  introduction 145 

introduction 159 

canto  first 164 

canto  second 181 

canto  third 20i 

canto  fourth 220 

canto  fifth 247 

canto  sixth 270 

Notes 299 

Glossary 417 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

It  is  a  happy  fortune  that  made  the  two  Scotsmen  who  stand 
as  the  highest  spiritual  representatives  of  their  race  to  bear 
names  so  significant  as  Burns  and  Scott.  The  little  streams  that 
catch  the  sunlight  as  they  spring  down  the  slopes  of  the  Scottish 
hills  are  as  free  in  their  nature  and  as  limpid  in  their  depths  as 
are  the  songs  with  which  Burns  has  given  perennial  freshness  to 
Scottish  life.  And  it  was  singularly  fortunate  that  the  man  of  all 
men  who  was  to  interpret  his  country  to  the  world  should  him- 
self have  been  named  Scott.  If  we  could  reproduce  earlier  con- 
ditions, philologists  in  some  future  era  of  the  world's  history 
might  be  querying  whether  the  little  country  of  the  north  was 
named  Scotland  from  the  native  poet,  Walter  Scott,  or  the  poet 
took  his  name  from  the  country  of  which  he  sang. 

Walter  Scott  was  born  August  15,  1771,  in  his  father's  house 
at  the  head  of  the  College  Wynd,  Edinburgh.  He  was  of  the 
purest  Border  race.  Walter  Scott  —  Wat  of  Harden  —  was  the 
grandfather  of  his  father's  grandfather  and  was  married  to 
Mary  Scott,  the  Flower  of  Yarrow,  two  personages  whom  Sir 
Walter  honoured  with  more  than  one  reference  in  his  verse. 
Wat  of  Harden's  eldest  son  was  Sir  William  Scott,  a  stout 
Jacobite  who  saved  his  life  when  making  an  unsuccessful  foray 
on  the  lands  of  Sir  Gideon  Murray  of  Elibank,  by  accepting  the 
alternative  of  marrying  the  plainest  of  the  daughters  of  Sir 
Gideon,  a  marriage  which  by  no  means  turned  out  ill,  but  seems 
to  have  created  a  genuine  alliance  between  the  two  houses. 

The  third  son  of  Sir  William  was  Walter  Scott,  the  first  Laird 
of  Raeburn.  He  and  his  wife  were  willing  converts  to  the  doc- 
trines of  George  Fox,  the  Quaker  apostle,  but  the  elder  brother, 
a  sturdy  Jacobite,  would  have  no  such  nonsense  in  the  family, 
and  caused  Walter  and  his  wife  to  be  clapped  into  prison  and 
their  children  educated  apart  from  such  pestilential  associations 
as  the  peace-loving,  non-resisting  Friends.  So  effective  was  the 

xi 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

procedure  that  Walter's  son  Walter  finally  intrigued  in  the  cause 
of  the  exiled  Stuarts,  lost  pretty  much  all  he  had  in  the  world, 
even  his  head  being  in  great  jeopardy,  and  wore  his  beard 
undipped  to  the  day  of  his  death  under  vow  that  no  razor 
should  touch  it  till  the  return  of  the  Stuarts,  and  so  got  the 
name  of  Beardie;  vows,  razors,  and  beards  appear  always  to  have 
had  some  occult  connection.  In  the  Introduction  to  the  sixth 
canto  of  Marmion  he  half  puts  on  Beardie's  coat  as  he  writes  to 
Richard  Heber.  Beardie  was  Scott's  great-grandsire.  His 
grandfather  was  Beardie's  second  son,  Robert  Scott  of  Sandy- 
Knowe,  and  as  this  ancestor  came  to  have  a  large  part  in  Scott's 
early  life,  it  is  worth  while  to  attend  to  Sir  Walter's  own  narra- 
tive concerning  him. 

'My  grandfather,'  he  writes,  in  the  effective  bit  of  auto- 
biography preserved  by  Lockhart,  'was  originally  bred  to  the 
sea;  but,  being  shipwrecked  near  Dundee  in  his  trial  voyage, 
he  took  such  a  sincere  dislike  to  that  element  that  he  could  not 
be  persuaded  to  a  second  attempt.  This  occasioned  a  quarrel 
between  him  and  his  father,  who  left  him  to  shift  for  himself. 
Robert  was  one  of  those  active  spirits  to  whom  this  was  no  mis- 
fortune. He  turned  Whig  upon  the  spot,  and  fairly  abjured  his 
father's  politics,  and  his  learned  poverty.  His  chief  and  relative, 
Mr.  Scott  of  Harden,  gave  him  a  lease  of  the  farm  of  Sandy- 
Knowe,  comprehending  the  rocks  in  the  centre  of  which  Smail- 
holm  or  Sandy-Knowe  tower  is  situated.  He  took  for  his 
shepherd  an  old  man  called  Hogg,  who  willingly  lent  him,  out  of 
respect  to  his  family,  his  whole  savings,  about  £30,  to  stock  the 
new  farm.  With  this  sum,  which  it  seems  was  at  the  time  sufifi- 
cient  for  the  purpose,  the  master  and  servant  set  off  to  purchase 
a  stock  of  sheep  at  Whitsun-Tryste,  a  fair  held  on  a  hill  near 
Wooler  in  Northumberland.  The  old  shepherd  went  carefully 
from  drove  to  drove,  till  he  found  a  hirsel  likely  to  answer  their 
purpose,  and  then  returned  to  tell  his  master  to  come  up  and 
conclude  the  bargain.  But  what  was  his  surprise  to  see  him  gal- 
loping a  mettled  hunter  about  the  race-course,  and  to  find  he 
had  expended  the  whole  stock  in  this  extraordinary  purchase !  — 


Xll 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

Moses'  bargain  of  green  spectacles  did  not  strike  more  dismay 
into  the  Vicar  of  Wakefield's  family  than  my  grandfather's  rash- 
ness into  the  poor  old  shepherd.  The  thing,  however,  was  irre- 
trievable, and  they  returned  without  the  sheep.  In  the  course 
of  a  few  days,  however,  my  grandfather,  who  was  one  of  the 
best  horsemen  of  his  time,  attended  John  Scott  of  Harden's 
hounds  on  this  same  horse,  and  displayed  him  to  such  advantage 
that  he  sold  him  for  double  the  original  price.  The  farm  was  now 
stocked  in  earnest ;  and  the  rest  of  my  grandfather's  career  was 
that  of  successful  industry.  He  was  one  of  the  first  who  were 
active  in  the  cattle-trade,  afterward  carried  to  such  extent 
between  the  Highlands  of  Scotland  and  the  leading  counties  in 
England,  and  by  his  droving  transactions  acquired  a  consider- 
able sum  of  money.  He  was  a  man  of  middle  stature,  extremely 
active,  quick,  keen,  and  fiery  in  his  temper,  stubbornly  honest, 
and  so  distinguished  for  his  skill  in  country  matters  that  he  was 
the  general  referee  in  all  points  of  dispute  which  occurred  in  the 
neighbourhood.  His  birth  being  admitted  as  gentle  gave  him 
access  to  the  best  society  in  the  county,  and  his  dexterity  in 
country  sports,  particularly  hunting,  made  him  an  acceptable 
companion  in  the  field  as  well  as  at  the  table.' 

This  Robert  Scott  of  Sandy-Knowe  married  Barbara  Hali- 
burton,  who  brought  to  her  husband  that  part  of  Dryburgh 
which  included  the  ruined  Abbey.  By  a  misfortune  in  the  family 
of  Barbara  Scott,  this  property  was  sold,  yet  the  right  of  burial 
remained,  and  was,  as  we  shall  see,  availed  of  by  Scott  himself. 
The  eldest  of  the  large  family  of  Robert  and  Barbara  Scott  was 
Walter,  the  father  of  Walter.  He  was  educated  to  the  profession 
of  a  Writer  to  the  Signet,  which  is  Scots  equivalent  for  attorney. 
'He  had  a  zeal  for  his  clients,'  writes  his  son,  'which  was  almost 
ludicrous:  far  from  coldly  discharging  the  duties  of  his  employ- 
ment toward  them,  he  thought  for  them,  felt  for  their  honour  as 
for  his  own,  and  rather  risked  disobliging  them  than  neglecting 
anything  to  which  he  conceived  their  duty  bound  them.'  For 
the  rest,  he  was  a  religious  man  of  the  stricter  sort,  a  steady 
friend  to  freedom,  yet  holding  fast  by  the  monarchical  element, 

xiii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

which  he  thought  somewhat  jeoparded,  a  great  stickler  for 
etiquette  in  all  the  social  forms,  and  a  most  hearty  host.  He 
married  Anne,  the  daughter  of  Dr.  John  Rutherford,  professor 
of  medicine  in  the  University  of  Edinburgh. 

Such  was  the  inheritance  with  which  Walter  Scott  came  into 
the  world,  and  at  every  step  one  counts  a  strong  strain  of  that 
Scottish  temper  which,  twisted  and  knotted  in  generations  of 
hardihood,  issues  in  a  robust  nature,  delighting  in  the  hunt  and 
the  free  coursing  over  hill  and  plain,  and  finding  in  the  stern 
country  a  meet  nurse  for  a  poetic  child.  But  the  conditions  of 
life  which  developed  an  inherited  power  are  none  the  less  inter- 
esting to  observe.  His  mother  could  not  nurse  him,  and  his  first 
nurse  had  consumption.  One  after  another  of  the  little  family  of 
which  he  was  a  member  had  died  in  the  close  air  of  the  wynd, 
and  Walter  was  snatched  from  a  like  end  by  the  wisdom  of  his 
father,  who  moved  his  household  to  a  meadow  district  sloping 
to  the  south  from  the  old  town ;  but  when  he  was  eighteen  months 
old  a  childish  fever  cost  the  boy  the  full  use  of  his  right  leg,  and 
all  his  life  long  he  limped,  —  a  sorry  privation  to  so  outdoor  a 
nature ;  yet  as  the  loss  or  disability  of  a  member  seems  to  have 
the  effect  on  resolute  persons  of  making  them  do  the  very 
things  for  which  these  members,  one  would  say,  were  indispen- 
sable, making  that  armless  men  paint  and  blind  men  watch 
bees,  so  Scott  became  mountain  climber  and  bold  dragoon. 

The  enfeeblement  which  came  led  Dr.  Rutherford,  his 
mother's  father,  to  send  the  child  to  his  other  grandfather's 
farm  at  Sandy-Knowe,  and  there,  with  some  intervals,  he  lived 
as  a  shepherd's  child  might  live  for  five  years,  from  1774  to  1779; 
from  three  years  old,  that  is,  till  eight.  Here  he  came  into  the 
hands  of  the  housekeeper,  old  Alison  Wilson,  whom  he  has 
immortalised,  even  to  the  name,  in  his  tale  of  Old  Mortality. 
His  grandfather,  meanwhile,  the  rugged  cattle-dealer,  took  him 
in  hand  with  a  treatment  which  brought  the  little  fellow  into 
very  close  contact  with  Nature.  'Among  the  odd  remedies 
recurred  to  to  aid  my  lameness,'  says  Scott  in  his  Autobiog- 
raphy, 'some  one  had  recommended  that  so  often  as  a  sheep 

xiv 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

was  killed  for  the  use  of  the  family,  I  should  be  stripped,  and 
swathed  up  in  the  skin,  warm  as  it  was  flayed  from  the  carcase 
of  the  animal.  In  this  Tartar-like  habiliment  I  well  remember 
lying  upon  the  floor  of  the  little  parlour  in  the  farmhouse,  while 
my  grandfather,  a  venerable  old  man  with  white  hair,  used 
every  excitement  to  make  me  try  to  crawl.'  Whatever  may 
have  been  the  virtue  in  this  contagion,  there  can  be  no  hesita- 
tion in  applauding  the  brave  treatment  which  later  was  em- 
ployed. When  he  was  in  his  fourth  year  and  it  was  thought  best 
to  try  the  waters  of  Bath,  Walter  had  begun  to  show  the  results 
of  his  life  at  Sandy-Knowe. 

'My  health,'  he  says,  'was  by  this  time  a  good  deal  confirmed 
by  the  country  air,  and  the  influence  of  that  imperceptible  and 
unfatiguing  exercise  to  which  the  good  sense  of  my  grandfather 
had  subjected  me;  for  when  the  day  was  fine,  I  was  usually  car- 
ried out  and  laid  down  beside  the  old  shepherd,  among  the 
crags  or  rocks  round  which  he  fed  his  sheep.  The  impatience  of 
a  child  soon  inclined  me  to  struggle  with  my  infirmity,  and  I 
began  by  degrees  to  stand,  to  walk,  and  to  run.  Although  the 
limb  afifected  was  much  shrunk  and  contracted,  my  general 
health,  which  was  of  more  importance,  was  much  strengthened 
by  being  frequently  in  the  open  air,  and,  in  a  word,  I,  who  in  a 
city  had  probably  been  condemned  to  hopeless  and  helpless 
decrepitude,  was  now  a  healthy,  high-spirited,  and,  my  lame- 
ness apart,  a  sturdy  child.'  In  another  place  he  says  that  'he 
delighted  to  roll  about  in  the  grass  all  day  long  in  the  midst  of 
the  flock,  and  the  sort  of  fellowship  he  formed  with  the  sheep 
and  lambs  impressed  his  mind  with  a  degree  of  aflfectionate 
feeling  towards  them  which  lasted  through  life.* 

The  year  he  spent  at  Bath  left  little  impression  on  his  mind, 
save  an  experience  at  the  theatre  when  he  saw  As  You  Like  It, 
and  was  so  scandalised  at  the  quarrel  between  Orlando  and  his 
brother  in  the  first  scene  that  he  screamed  out,  'Ain't  they 
brothers? '  so  sheltered  had  his  little  life  been  thus  far  from  any- 
thing which  savoured  of  strife  in  the  household.  He  had  a  little 
schooling  at  Bath,  where  he  was  under  the  watch  and  ward  of 


XV 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

his  aunt  Janet  Scott,  but  at  Sandy-Knowe,  both  before  his 
excursion  and  after  his  return  for  three  years  more,  he  had  a 
more  natural  and  vital  introduction  to  literature  in  the  tales 
which  he  heard  from  his  grandmother,  whose  own  recollections 
went  back  to  the  days  of  Border  raids.  Thus  he  came,  in  the 
course  of  nature,  as  it  were,  into  possession  of  an  inexhaustible 
treasury  from  which  later  he  drew  forth  things  new  and  old. 

The  years  at  Sandy-Knowe  were  the  years  of  conscious 
awakening  to  life,  and  the  early  impressions  made  on  his  mind 
were  so  indelible,  that  when  he  first  began  to  put  pen  to  paper 
it  was  from  the  scenes  he  then  had  known  that  the  images  arose. 
From  these  scenes  sprang  the  Eve  of  St.  John  and  Marmion ; 
near  at  hand  was  Dryburgh;  the  Tweed,  which  flows  through 
his  song  like  an  enchanted  stream,  flowed  with  an  embracing 
sweep  about  Melrose;  and  the  Eildon  Hills,  the  Cheviot  range, 
and  the  wilderness  of  Lammermoor  all  mingled  with  his  childish 
memories  and  fancies. 

As  one  reads  on  in  Scott's  Autobiography,  and  in  the  records 
and  letters  which  supplement  it,  the  experiences  begin  to  call  up 
scenes  in  the  novels,  and  even  familiar  names  ofTer  themselves. 
Thus,  when  in  his  eighth  year  he  abode  for  a  while  with  his 
aunt  at  Prestonpans,  to  get  the  benefit  of  sea-bathing,  he 
formed  a  youthful  intimacy  with  an  old  military  veteran, 
Dalgetty  by  name,  'who  had  pitched  his  tent  in  that  little  vil- 
lage, after  all  his  campaigns,  subsisting  upon  an  ensign's  half- 
pay,  though  called  by  courtesy  a  captain.  As  this  old  gentle- 
man, who  had  been  in  all  the  German  wars,  found  very  few 
to  listen  to  his  tales  of  military  feats,  he  formed  a  sort  of  alli- 
ance with  me,  and  I  used  invariably  to  attend  him  for  the  plea- 
sure of  hearing  those  communications.'  At  Prestonpans,  too,  he 
fell  in  with  George  Constable,  an  old  friend  of  his  father,  and 
portrayed  him  afterward  so  vividly,  while  unconscious  of  it,  in 
the  character  of  Jonathan  Oldbuck  in  The  Antiquary,  as  to  fix 
suspicion  on  himself  as  the  author  of  the  book. 

But  now,  thanks  to  the  generous  course  of  nature-treatment, 
he  was  ready  for  schooling,  and  a  Scottish  boy  would  be  a 

xvi 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

strange  lad,  indeed,  if  he  were  not  given  over  into  the  hands  of 
the  schoolmaster  at  a  tender  age;  the  schoolmaster  himself 
ranking  in  the  social  scale  with  the  minister  and  the  doctor. 
Thanks,  too,  to  his  mother  and  his  aunt  Janet,  he  began  his 
school  life  with  his  head  well  stocked  with  stories  of  the  real 
happenings  in  his  own  country,  and  with  a  portrait  gallery  of 
stalwart  figures  of  history  and  poetry.  The  boy  lived  at  home 
in  his  father's  house  in  Edinburgh,  and  went  to  the  High  School 
for  five  years,  from  1778  to  1783.  Here  he  learned  Latin  and 
tried  his  own  skill  at  making  versified  translations  of  Virgil  and 
Horace,  and  here  he  made  friendships  that  lasted  through  his 
life.  He  had,  besides,  a  tutor  at  home,  and  he  went,  as  the  cus- 
tom was,  to  a  separate  school  for  writing  and  arithmetic.  To 
this  school  young  girls  also  went,  and  one  of  them  later  in  life 
set  down  in  this  wise  her  remembrance  of  her  school -fellow:  — 
'  He  attracted  the  regard  and  fondness  of  all  his  companions, 
for  he  was  ever  rational,  fanciful,  lively,  and  possessed  of  that 
urbane  gentleness  of  manner  which  makes  its  way  to  the  heart. 
His  imagination  was  constantly  at  work,  and  he  often  so  en- 
grossed the  attention  of  those  who  learnt  with  him  that  little 
could  be  done  —  Mr.  Morton  himself  being  forced  to  laugh  as 
much  as  the  little  scholars  at  the  odd  turns  and  devices  he  fell 
upon;  for  he  did  nothing  in  the  ordinary  way,  but,  for  example, 
even  when  he  wanted  ink  to  his  pen,  would  get  up  some  ludi- 
crous story  about  sending  his  doggie  to  the  mill  again.  He  used 
also  to  interest  us  in  a  more  serious  way,  by  telling  us  the 
visions,  as  he  called  them,  which  he  had  lying  alone  on  the  floor 
or  sofa,  when  kept  from  going  to  church  on  a  Sunday  by  ill- 
health.  Child  as  I  was,  I  could  not  help  being  highly  delighted 
with  his  description  of  the  glories  he  had  seen  —  his  misty  and 
sublime  sketches  of  the  regions  above,  which  he  had  visited  in 
his  trance.  Recollecting  these  descriptions,  radiant  and  not 
gloomy  as  they  were,  I  have  often  thought  since  that  there 
must  have  been  a  bias  in  his  mind  to  superstition  —  the  mar- 
vellous seemed  to  have  such  power  over  him,  though  the  mere 
offspring  of  his  own  imagination,  that  the  expression  of  his  face, 


xvii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

habitually  that  of  genuine  benevolence,  mingled  with  a  shrewd 
innocent  humour,  changed  greatly  while  he  was  speaking  of 
these  things,  and  showed  a  deep  intenseness  of  feeling,  as  if 
he  were  awed  even  by  his  own  recital.  ...  I  may  add,  that  in 
walking  he  used  always  to  keep  his  eyes  turned  downwards  as 
if  thinking,  but  with  a  pleasing  expression  of  countenance,  as  if 
enjoying  his  thoughts.  Having  once  known  him,  it  was  impos- 
sible ever  to  forget  him.' 

But  familiar  as  was  the  boy's  intercourse  with  companions  of 
his  own  age,  Scott  himself  plainly  lays  great  emphasis  on  the 
affectionate  relation  he  held  with  his  elders.  After  his  studies  at 
the  High  School  and  before  he  entered  college,  he  lived  for  a 
while,  and  afterward  frequently  visited,  with  his  aunt  Janet  at 
Kelso.  Here  he  kept  up  some  schooling  with  the  village  school- 
master, who  appears  to  have  been  the  original  of  Dominie 
Sampson,  but  he  also  read  voraciously  in  Spenser  and  Shake- 
speare, in  the  older  novelists,  and  here  he  made  the  acquaint- 
ance of  Percy's  Rcliqiies  of  Ancient  Poetry.  'I  remember  well,' 
he  records  in  later  life,  'the  spot  where  I  read  these  volumes  for 
the  first  time.  It  was  beneath  a  huge  platanus-tree,  in  the  ruins 
of  what  had  been  intended  for  an  old-fashioned  arbour  in  the 
garden.  The  summer-day  sped  onward  so  fast,  that  notwith- 
standing the  sharp  appetite  of  thirteen,  I  forgot  the  hour  of  din- 
ner, was  sought  for  with  anxiety,  and  was  found  still  entranced  in 
my  intellectual  banquet.  To  read  and  to  remember  was  in  this 
instance  the  same  thing,  and  henceforth  I  overw^helmed  my 
school-fellows  and  all  who  would  hearken  to  me  with  tragical 
recitations  from  the  ballads  of  Bishop  Percy.'  Among  these 
school-fellows  was  James  Ballantyne,  so  closely  identified  with 
his  later  fortunes.  'He  soon  discovered,'  says  Ballantyne  in  a 
reminiscence,  '  that  I  was  as  fond  of  listening  as  he  himself  was 
of  relating;  and  I  remember  it  was  a  thing  of  daily  occurrence, 
that  after  he  had  made  himself  master  of  his  own  lesson,  I,  alas! 
being  still  sadly  to  seek  in  mine,  he  used  to  whisper  to  me: 
"Come,  slink  over  beside  me,  Jamie,  and  I  '11  tell  you  a  story."' 
And  stories  in  abundance  he  afterward  told  to  the  listening  Jamie. 

xviii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

If  at  Sandy-Knowe  Nature  had  stolen  into  his  mind,  as  well 
as  sent  her  healing  messages  into  his  body,  at  Kelso  he  entered 
upon  that  hearty,  enthusiastic  love  of  natural  beauty,  and 
especially  of  the  mingling  of  man's  deeds  with  Nature's  ele- 
ments, which  glows  through  his  poems  and  his  novels.  'The 
meeting,'  there,  he  says,  'of  two  superb  rivers,  the  Tweed  and 
the  Teviot,  both  renowned  in  song  —  the  ruins  of  an  ancient 
Abbey  —  the  more  distant  vestiges  of  Roxburgh  Castle  —  the 
modern  mansion  of  Fleurs,  which  is  so  situated  as  to  combine 
the  ideas  of  ancient  baronial  grandeur  with  those  of  modern 
taste  —  are  in  themselves  objects  of  the  first  class;  yet  are  so 
mixed,  united,  and  melted  among  a  thousand  other  beauties  of 
a  less  prominent  description,  that  they  harmonise  into  one 
general  picture,  and  please  rather  by  unison  than  by  concord. 
I  believe  I  have  written  unintelligibly  upon  this  subject,  but 
it  is  fitter  for  the  pencil  than  the  pen.  The  romantic  feelings 
which  I  have  described  as  predominating  in  my  mind,  natur- 
ally rested  upon  and  associated  themselves  with  these  grand  fea- 
tures of  the  landscape  around  me ;  and  the  historical  incidents, 
or  traditional  legends  connected  with  many  of  them,  gave  to  my 
admiration  a  sort  of  intense  impression  of  reverence,  which  at 
times  made  my  heart  feel  too  big  for  its  bosom.  From  this  time 
the  love  of  natural  beauty,  more  especially  when  combined  with 
ancient  ruins,  or  remains  of  our  fathers'  piety  or  splendour, 
became  with  me  an  insatiable  passion,  which,  if  circumstances 
had  permitted,  I  would  willingly  have  gratified  by  travelling 
over  half  the  globe.' 

In  1783,  when  he  was  twelve  years  old,  he  entered  college  at 
Edinburgh,  after  the  manner  of  Scottish  boys,  and  had  three 
years  of  college  life,  such  as  it  was,  for  he  let  Greek  sink  out  of 
knowledge,  kept  up  a  smattering  only  of  Latin,  heard  a  little 
philosophy  under  Dugald  Stewart,  and  attended  a  class  in  his- 
tory. His  health  was  not  confirmed,  and  he  had  recourse  more 
than  once  to  the  healing  of  Kelso,  and  by  the  time  he  was  fifteen 
and  had  done  with  college,  he  was  poorly  enough  equipped  with 
learning.  But  the  flame  of  poetry  and  romance  which  had  been 


XIX 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

kindled  burned  steadily  within  him  and  was  fed  with  large 
draughts  from  literature,  with  delightfully  free  renderings 
amongst  his  chosen  friends,  and  with  now  and  then  little  exer- 
cises with  his  pen.  It  is,  however,  noticeable  throughout  the 
formative  period  of  Scott's  life,  how  little  he  was  affected  with 
the  cacoethes  scribendi.  He  had  the  healthier  appetite  which  is 
appeased  though  never  satiated  with  literature,  and  the  natural 
gift  which  finds  expression  in  improvised  story-telling,  or  the 
free  recital  of  what  one  has  read.  A  friend  recalling  the  delight- 
ful Saturday  excursions  to  Salisbury  Crags,  Arthur's  Seat,  or 
Blackford  Hill,  when  they  carried  books  from  the  circulating 
library  to  read  on  the  rocks  in  the  intervals  of  hardy  climbing, 
adds:  'After  we  had  continued  this  practice  of  reading  for  two 
years  or  more  together,  he  proposed  that  we  should  recite  to 
each  other  alternately  such  adventures  of  knight-errants  as  we 
could  ourselves  contrive;  and  we  continued  to  do  so  a  long 
while.  He  found  no  difficulty  in  it,  and  used  to  recite  for  half  an 
hour  or  more  at  a  time,  while  I  seldom  continued  half  that  space. 
The  stories  we  told  w'ere,  as  Sir  Walter  has  said,  interminable  — 
for  we  were  unwilling  to  have  any  of  our  favourite  knights 
killed.  Our  passion  for  romance  led  us  to  learn  Italian  together; 
after  a  time  we  could  both  read  it  with  fluency,  and  we  then 
copied  such  tales  as  we  had  met  with  in  that  language,  being 
a  continued  succession  of  battles  and  enchantments.  He  began 
early  to  collect  old  ballads,  and  as  my  mother  could  repeat  a 
great  many,  he  used  to  come  and  learn  those  she  could  recite  to 
him.  He  used  to  get  all  the  copies  of  these  ballads  he  could,  and 
select  the  best.' 

Scott  himself,  never  given  to  subjective  analysis,  repeatedly 
stood  off  and  looked  at  himself,  boy  and  man,  to  sketch  the 
figure  in  some  of  one  of  his  characters,  and  thus  he  has  por- 
trayed with  great  accuracy  in  the  person  of  Waverley  the  course 
of  voluntary  study  which  he  had  followed  up  to  this  time.  'He 
had  read,  and  stored  in  a  memory  of  uncommon  tenacity,  much 
curious,  though  ill-arranged  and  miscellaneous  information.  In 
English  literature  he  was  master  of  Shakespeare  and  Milton,  of 


XX 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

our  earlier  dramatic  authors,  of  many  picturesque  and  inter- 
esting passages  from  our  old  historical  chronicles,  and  was  par- 
ticularly well  acquainted  with  Spenser,  Drayton,  and  other 
poets,  who  have  exercised  themselves  on  romantic  fiction,  — 
of  all  themes  the  most  fascinating  to  a  youthful  imagination, 
before  the  passions  have  roused  themselves,  and  demand  poetry 
of  a  more  sentimental  description.' 

In  1786  Scott  was  apprenticed  to  his  father,  and  for  five  years 
he  served  his  time;  five  more  years  were  spent  in  the  scanty 
practice  of  the  law,  before  the  first  volume  appeared  of  that 
long  row  which,  compress  it  as  we  may,  must  always  take  up  a 
great  deal  of  shelf-room  with  the  complete  writings  of  Sir 
Walter  Scott.  These  ten  years  witnessed  the  strengthening  of  a 
nature  which,  with  all  the  early  promise  to  be  traced  in  the  out- 
lines we  have  drawn,  had  nothing  in  it  of  the  forced  ripening  of  a 
stimulated  brain.  Scott  was  twenty-five  years  old  when  he 
printed  the  thin  volume  of  translations  from  the  German;  he 
was  over  thirty  when  he  edited  the  Border  Minstrelsy  with  the 
first  essays  into  his  own  field  of  romantic  verse,  and  he  had 
entered  upon  the  second  of  man's  generations  before  he  wrote 
The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel.  There  is  nothing  of  the  prodigy 
in  this.  Scott's  industry  was  great.  His  productiveness  was 
notable,  especially  when  one  takes  into  account  the  great  body 
of  letters  and  journal-writing,  and  remembers  how  popular  he 
was  in  society;  but  before  he  entered  on  his  career  as  an  author, 
he  was  simply  a  full-blooded  young  Scotsman,  delighting  in 
excursions,  with  a  capacious  memory  in  which  he  stored  and 
assimilated  the  records  in  prose  and  verse  of  Scottish  achieve- 
ments, an  omnivorous  reader,  and  a  hearty  companion.  He  was 
not  even  regarded  as  a  leading  figure  in  the  literary  society 
affected  by  the  ingenious  youth  of  Edinburgh.  His  essays  in 
literature  were  not  very  effective.  As  he  himself  humorously 
puts  it,  '  I  never  attempted  them  unless  compelled  to  do  so  by 
the  regulations  of  the  society,  and  then  I  was  like  the  Lord  of 
Castle  Rackrent,  who  was  obliged  to  cut  down  a  tree  to  get  a 
few  fagots  to  boil  the  kettle;  for  the  quantity  of  ponderous  and 

xxi 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

miscellaneous  knowledge  which  I  really  possessed  on  many  sub- 
jects was  not  easily  condensed,  or  brought  to  bear  upon  the 
object  I  wished  particularly  to  become  master  of.  Yet  there 
occurred  opportunities  when  this  odd  lumber  of  my  brain, 
especially  that  which  was  connected  with  the  recondite  parts  of 
history,  did  me,  as  Hamlet  says,  "yeoman's  service."  My 
memory  of  events  was  like  one  of  the  large,  old-fashioned  stone 
cannons  of  the  Turks,  —  very  difficult  to  load  well  and  discharge, 
but  making  a  powerful  effect  when  by  good  chance  any  object 
did  come  within  range  of  its  shot.' 

It  was  at  the  beginning  of  this  period  that  Scott  caught  a 
glimpse  of  that  other  great  Scotsman,  Burns,  with  whom,  though 
he  did  not  know  it,  he  was  to  share  the  bench  which  Scotland 
owns  on  the  slope  of  Parnassus.  Quite  as  notable  was  the 
acquaintance  which  he  first  made  about  the  same  time  with  the 
Highlands.  Though  business  for  his  father  took  him  into  this 
region,  his  delight  in  the  scenery  and  the  people  took  precedence 
of  his  occupation  with  affairs,  and  long  after  he  had  forgotten  the 
trivial  errands  in  the  interest  of  the  law,  he  remembered  the 
tales  he  had  heard,  and  his  imagination  built  upon  his  experi- 
ence those  characters  and  scenes  which  live  in  the  lines  of  The 
Lady  of  the  Lake  and  in  the  pages  of  Roh  Roy. 

The  record  of  Scott's  life  during  the  ten  years  of  his  legal 
training  and  early  practice  is  delightfully  varied  with  narratives 
of  these  excursions.  The  ardour  of  the  young  Scotsman  carried 
him  into  the  midst  of  scenes  which  were  to  prove  the  unfailing 
quarry  from  which  he  was  to  draw  the  material  for  his  work  of 
romance  and  fiction;  and  when  one  looks  back  upon  his  years  of 
adolescence  from  the  vantage-ground  of  a  full  knowledge  of  his 
career,  it  would  seem  as  if  never  did  a  writer  qualify  himself  for 
his  work  of  creation  in  so  thorough  and  direct  a  fashion.  Yet 
happily  this  preparation  was  unpremeditated  and  unconscious, 
for  the  naturalness  which  is  the  supreme  characteristic  of  Sir 
Walter's  verse  and  prose  was  due  to  the  integrity  and  simplicity 
of  his  nature  expending  itself  during  these  years  of  preparation 
upon  occupations  and  interests  which  were  ends  in  themselves. 


xxu 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

His  healthy  spirit  found  outlet  in  this  hearty  enjoyment  of 
Nature  and  history  and  human  life,  with  apparently  no  thought 
of  what  use  he  should  put  his  acquisitions  to;  it  was  enough  for 
the  time  that  he  should  share  his  enjoyment  with  his  cherished 
friends,  or  at  the  most  shape  his  knowledge  into  some  amateur 
essay  for  his  literary  club. 

In  the  midst  of  this  active,  wholesome  life  he  entered  upon  an 
experience  which  made  a  deep  furrow  in  his  soul.  It  is  witness  to 
the  sincerity  of  his  first  real  passion  —  we  may  pass  over  the 
youthful  excitement  which  gave  him  a  constancy  of  affection 
for  a  girl  when  he  was  in  his  twentieth  year  —  that  it  should 
have  found  expression  in  the  earliest  of  his  own  poems,  'The 
Violet,'  have  risen  into  view  more  than  once  in  direct  and  indi- 
rect reference  in  poems  and  novels,  and  even  late  in  life  should 
have  called  out  a  deep  note  of  yearning  regret  in  his  journal. 
The  tale  of  his  disappointment  in  love  has  been  spread  before 
the  world  recently  with  sufficient  detail  in  Mr.  Adam  Scott's 
book  ^  and  in  Miss  Skene's  magazine  article.  As  we  have  inti- 
mated, it  was  an  experience  of  no  idle  sort,  but  the  outcome  is 
another  tribute,  if  one  were  needed,  to  the  wholesomeness  and 
freedom  from  morbid  self-love  which  make  Scott  in  these  latter 
days  so  eminently  the  friend  in  literature  of  the  young  and 
whole-hearted.  It  is  a  comment  on  the  absence  of  bitterness  in 
his  nature  that  he  did  not  disengage  himself  from  his  kind,  but 
threw  himself  into  the  affairs  of  the  hour  and  organised  the 
Edinburgh  Lighthorse,  of  which  he  became  quartermaster, 
writing  a  spirited  war-song,  and  using  his  pen  thus  as  an  instru- 
ment of  service,  before  he  was  regarded  as  a  man  of  the  pen  at 
all. 

There  is  something  very  consonant  with  our  largest  knowledge 
of  Scott's  temper  in  the  incidents  which  led  up  to  his  marriage. 
The  story  in  its  beginning  shall  be  told  by  Lockhart:  — 

'Riding  one  day  with  Ferguson,  they  met,  some  miles  from 
Gilsland,  a  young  lady  taking  the  air  on  horseback,  whom 

•  The  Story  of  Sir  Walter  Scott's  First  Love,  with  Illustrative  Passages  from  his 
Life  and  Works,  and  Portraits  of  Sir  Walter  and  Lady  Scott,  and  of  Sir  William  and 
Lady  Forbes.   By  Adam  Scott.     Edinburgh:  Macniven  &  Wallace,  1896. 

xxiii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

neither  of  them  had  previously  remarked,  and  whose  appearance 
instantly  struck  both  so  much,  that  they  kept  her  in  view  until 
they  had  satisfied  themselves  that  she  also  was  one  of  the  party 
at  Gilsland  [the  watering-place  where  they  had  halted].  The 
same  evening  there  was  a  ball,  at  which  Captain  [John]  Scott 
produced  himself  in  his  regimentals,  and  Ferguson  also  thought 
proper  to  be  equipped  in  the  uniform  of  the  Edinburgh  Volun- 
teers. There  was  no  little  rivalry  among  the  young  travellers  as 
to  who  should  first  get  presented  to  the  unknown  beauty  of  the 
morning's  ride;  but  though  both  the  gentlemen  in  scarlet  had  the 
advantage  of  being  dancing  partners,  their  friend  succeeded  in 
handing  the  fair  stranger  to  supper  —  and  such  was  his  first 
introduction  to  Charlotte  Margaret  Carpenter. 

'Without  the  features  of  a  regular  beauty,  she  was  rich  in 
personal  attractions;  "a  form  that  was  fashioned  as  light  as  a 
fay's";  a  complexion  of  the  clearest  and  lightest  olive;  eyes 
large,  deep-set,  and  dazzling,  of  the  finest  Italian  brown;  and  a 
profusion  of  silken  tresses,  black  as  the  raven's  wing ;  her  address 
hovering  between  the  reserve  of  a  pretty  young  Englishwoman 
who  has  not  mingled  largely  in  general  society,  and  a  certain 
natural  archness  and  gaiety  that  suited  well  with  the  accompa- 
niment of  a  French  accent.  A  lovelier  vision,  as  all  who  remem- 
ber her  in  the  bloom  of  her  days  have  assured  me,  could  hardly 
have  been  imagined;  and  from  that  hour  the  fate  of  the  young 
poet  was  fixed.' 

The  lady  was  a  daughter  of  a  French  royalist  who  had  died 
at  the  beginning  of  the  revolution,  but  who  had  foreseen  the 
approaching  perils  and  had  secured  a  moderate  sum  in  English 
securities,  so  that  his  widow  and  her  family  at  once  fled  across 
the  Channel  and  made  their  home  in  London.  Miss  Carpenter 
at  the  time  was  making  a  summer  tour  under  the  direction  of  a 
Scotswoman  who  had  been  her  governess. 

Here  was  a  young  fellow  just  emerging  from  a  bitter  disap- 
pointment, who  falls  head  over  ears  in  love  with  a  saucy, 
piquant  girl  whose  letters,  after  the  acquaintance  had  ripened 
swiftly  into  passion,  disclose  a  capricious,  teasing  nature.  Scott 

xxiv 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

could  write  to  his  mother  and  to  Lord  Downshire,  who  was  a 
sort  of  guardian  of  Miss  Carpenter,  in  a  reasonable  manner,  but 
it  is  clear  from  his  impetuous  love-making  and  the  eagerness  he 
showed  to  bring  matters  to  a  head,  that  he  was  swept  away  by 
his  zeal  and  impatient  of  all  obstacles.  It  is  just  possible  that  in 
all  this  there  was  something  of  a  reaction  from  the  hurt  he  had 
suflfered,  and  that  Miss  Carpenter's  winsomeness  and  little 
imperious  ways  blinded  him  to  all  considerations  of  a  prudent 
sort.  He  was  ready  at  one  time  to  throw  aside  all  other  consider- 
ations and  take  his  bride  to  one  of  the  colonies,  there  to  win  a 
place  by  the  sheer  force  of  energy  in  a  new  land.  But  his  impetu- 
ousness  shows  the  gay  spirit  with  which  he  threw  himself  into 
all  his  enterprises,  and  the  ardour  with  which  he  pursued  an  end 
which  he  thought  he  must  attain.  He  removed  one  difhculty 
after  another,  and  the  sudden  encounter  in  July  was  followed  by 
marriage  on  the  Eve  of  Christmas,  1797.  Lady  Scott  bore  Sir 
Walter  four  children,  who  lived  and  grew  to  maturity,  two  sons 
and  two  daughters.  It  is  not  easy  to  escape  the  impression  that 
though  she  was  lively  and  volatile,  there  was  a  certain  lack  of 
profound  sympathy  between  husband  and  wife;  that  with  all  her 
love  of  society.  Lady  Scott  was  not  able  to  bring  to  her  husband 
the  kind  of  appreciation  of  his  genius  which  he  found  in  such 
friends  as  Lady  Louisa  Stuart,  the  Duchess  of  Buccleuch,  and 
the  Marchioness  of  Abercorn.  But  it  would  be  a  mistake  to  infer 
that  there  was  any  lack  of  loyalty  and  tenderness  on  the  part  of 
either;  and  when  Scott,  broken  in  his  fortunes,  is  obliged  also  to 
see  his  wife  pass  out  of  his  life,  the  pathos  of  his  utterance  shows 
how  intimately  their  interests  had  been  blended.  Yet  Scott's 
own  frank  expression  of  the  relation  between  them  must  stand 
as  indicating  the  limitations  of  their  union. 

The  young  couple  at  first  set  up  their  home  in  Edinburgh,  not 
far  from  the  residence  of  Scott's  mother  and  father,  who  were 
now  feeble  and  soon  to  leave  them.  Scott  was  shortly  appointed 
Sheriff  of  Selkirk,  an  office  which  carried  no  very  heavy  duties 
and  a  moderate  salary.  With  this  and  such  other  property  as 
he  and  his  wife  enjoyed,  they  were  able  to  live  modestly  and 

XXV 


BIOGRArHICAL  SKETCH 

cheerfully,  and  Scott  let  slip  the  practice  of  his  profession,  never 
very  congenial  to  him,  and  turned  with  zest  to  the  semi-literary 
occupations  which  had  begun  to  engross  his  attention. 

For  shortly  before  his  marriage  he  had  made  a  little  venture  in 
the  field  of  books  by  publishing  his  translation  of  a  couple  of 
German  ballads  that  were  then  highly  popular,  and  not  a  great 
while  after  his  marriage,  he  made  a  similar  effort  in  the  same 
direction  by  translating  Goethe's  drama  of  Goetz  von  Berlichen- 
gen;  but  his  more  zealous  pursuit  was  in  the  collection  of  Scot- 
tish ballads,  and  by  a  natural  sequence  in  patching  these  where 
they  were  broken,  and  by  making  very  good  imitations.  Thus, 
stimulated  also  by  a  group  of  similar  collectors,  he  published  in 
1802  and  1803  the  three  volumes  of  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border,  and  by  the  most  natural  transition  took  up  a  theme 
suggested  by  his  ballad  studies  and  wrought  with  great  celerity 
The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 

Scott's  Introduction  describes  in  some  detail  the  origin  of  the 
poem  and  the  motives  which  led  him  to  undertake  it.  With 
the  frankness  always  characteristic  of  him  in  his  addresses  to 
the  public  and  his  letters  to  his  friends,  he  spoke  as  if  he  was 
moved  chiefly  by  the  need  to  better  his  circumstances,  and  the 
same  confession  is  very  openly  made  in  connection  with  the 
writing  of  Rokeby,  when  he  was  full  of  the  notion  of  realising  his 
dreams  in  the  establishment  of  Abbotsford.  But  it  is  given  to 
us  with  our  large  knowledge  of  Scott's  career  to  place  motives 
in  a  more  just  relation;  and  though  it  is  entirely  true  that  Scott 
wanted  money  and  found  his  want  an  incentive  to  the  writing 
of  poems  and  novels,  it  is  equally  true  that  the  whole  course  of 
his  life,  up  to  the  time  of  writing  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel, 
was  the  direct  preparation  for  this  form  of  expression,  and  that 
his  generous  enthusiasm  and  warm  imagination  found  this  out- 
let with  a  simplicity  and  directness  which  explain  how  truly 
this  writer,  though  a  deliberate  maker  of  books,  had  yet  always 
that  delightful  quality  which  we  recognise  most  surely  in  the 
improvisatore.  It  was  his  nature  to  write  just  such  poetry  as 
the  free,  swinging  lines  of  his  long  poems. 


XXVI 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

Before  the  Lay  was  completed  and  published,  Scott  moved 
with  his  little  family  to  Ashestiel,  a  country  farm  seven  miles 
from  the  small  town  of  Selkirk,  and  having  a  beautiful  setting 
on  the  Tweedside,  with  green  hills  all  about.  Here  he  lived  as  a 
tenant  of  the  Buccleuch  estate  for  seven  of  the  happiest  years  of 
his  life.  It  was  here  that  he  wrote  the  poems  preceding  Rokehy, 
and  here  that  he  began  the  Waverley,  and  tossed  the  fragment 
aside.  His  income,  which,  at  the  beginning  of  his  poetical 
career,  was  from  all  sources  about  £1000  a  year,  enabled  him  to 
live  at  ease,  and  the  successive  productions  greatly  augmented 
his  property.  Mr.  Morritt,  one  of  his  closest  friends,  visited  him 
at  Ashestiel  in  1808,  and  an  extract  from  a  memorandum  which 
he  gave  Lockhart  gives  a  most  agreeable  picture  of  the  poet  in 
his  home. 

'There  he  was  the  cherished  friend  and  kind  neighbour  of 
every  middling  Selkirkshire  yeoman,  just  as  easily  as  in  Edin- 
burgh he  was  the  companion  of  clever  youth  and  narrative  old 
age  in  refined  society.  He  carried  us  one  day  to  Melrose  Abbey 
or  Newark;  another,  to  course  with  mountain  greyhounds  by 
Yarrow  Braes  or  St.  Mary's  Loch,  repeating  every  ballad  or 
legendary  tale  connected  with  the  scenery;  and  on  a  third,  we 
must  all  go  to  a  farmer's  kirn,  or  harvest  home,  to  dance  with 
Border  lasses  on  a  barn  floor,  drink  whisky  punch,  and  enter  with 
him  into  all  the  gossip  and  good  fellowship  of  his  neighbours,  on 
a  complete  footing  of  unrestrained  conviviality,  equality,  and 
mutual  respect.  His  wife  and  happy  young  family  were  clus- 
tered round  him,  and  the  cordiality  of  his  reception  would  have 
unbent  a  misanthrope.  At  this  period  his  conversation  was 
more  equal  and  animated  than  any  man's  that  I  ever  knew. 
It  was  most  characterised  by  the  extreme  felicity  and  fun  of  his 
illustrations,  drawn  from  the  whole  encyclopaedia  of  life  and 
nature,  in  a  style  somewhat  too  exuberant  for  written  narra- 
tive, but  which  to  him  was  natural  and  spontaneous.  A  hundred 
stories,  always  apposite  and  often  interesting  the  mind  by 
strong  pathos,  or  eminently  ludicrous,  were  daily  told,  which, 
with  many  more,  have  since  been  transplanted,  almost  in  the 


xxvu 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

same  language,  into  the  Waverley  Novels  and  his  other  writings. 
These  and  his  recitations  of  poetry,  which  can  never  be  forgot- 
ten by  those  who  knew  him,  made  up  the  charm  that  his  bound- 
less memory  enabled  him  to  exert  to  the  wonder  of  the  gaping 
lover  of  wonders.  But  equally  impressive  and  powerful  was 
the  language  of  his  warm  heart,  and  equally  wonderful  were  the 
conclusions  of  his  vigorous  understanding,  to  those  who  could 
return  or  appreciate  either.  Among  a  number  of  such  recollec- 
tions, I  have  seen  many  of  the  thoughts  which  then  passed 
through  his  mind  embodied  in  the  delightful  prefaces  annexed 
late  in  life  to  his  poetry  and  novels.* 

Shortly  after  the  publication  of  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel, 
and  when  he  was  pleasantly  established  at  Ashestiel,  James 
Ballantyne,  who  had  already  been  helped  by  Scott  with  a  loan, 
applied  to  his  old  school  friend  and  the  now  successful  author  for 
further  aid  in  his  business.  Scott  took  the  opportunity  to  make 
an  investment  in  Ballantyne's  printing-business.  He  became  a 
silent  partner  with  a  third  interest.  It  seemed  a  most  reasonable 
move.  He  had  practically  retired  from  the  bar,  though  he  was 
making  an  effort  to  secure  a  salaried  position  as  a  clerk  of  the 
court.  He  had  a  fair  income,  but  his  real  capital  he  perceived 
was  in  his  fertile  brain,  and  by  allying  himself  with  a  printing- 
office  he  would  be  in  a  position  to  get  far  more  than  an  author's 
ordinary  share  in  the  productions  of  his  pen.  There  was  not  the 
same  wide  gulf  in  Edinburgh  between  trade  and  profession 
which  existed  in  London;  and  though  Scott,  with  the  natural 
pride  of  an  author,  did  not  make  public  his  connection  with 
Ballantyne,  he  was  doubtless  led  to  keep  his  engagement  private 
quite  as  much  by  the  advantage  which  privacy  gave  him  in  the 
influence  he  could  use  to  turn  business  into  Ballantyne's  hands. 
It  is  possible  that  if  the  Ballantynes  had  been  better  business 
men  and  cooler-headed,  —  for  James  Ballantyne's  brother  John 
shortly  set  up  as  a  publisher,  and  after  that  the  affairs  of  author, 
printer,  and  publisher  became  inextricably  interdependent,  — 
the  venture  might  not  have  turned  out  ill;  but  all  the  men  en- 
gaged were  of  a  speculative  turn  of  mind,  and  Scott's  marvel- 

xxviii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

lous  fecundity  and  versatility  seemed  to  promise  an  inexhaust- 
ible spring  from  which  the  currents  of  manufacture  and  trade 
would  flow  clearly  and  steadily.  All  sorts  of  enterprises  were 
projected  and  carried  out,  beyond  and  beside  Scott's  creative 
work.  Editions  of  standard  works,  magazines,  collections  of 
poetry,  rushed  forth,  and  capital  was  shortly  locked  up,  so  that 
an  early  bankruptcy  would  have  been  inevitable,  except  for  the 
sudden  discovery  of  a  new  source  of  wealth.  This  lay  in  the 
invention  of  the  Waverley  Novels,  at  first  anonymous,  which 
swept  the  reading  world  like  a  freshet  swelling  into  a  flood  and 
seeming  for  a  while  to  be  almost  a  new  force  in  Nature.  The 
Waverley  Novels  for  a  while  saved  this  mad  combination  of 
author,  printer,  and  publisher  from  going  to  pieces,  and  there 
might  possibly  have  been  no  catastrophe  had  not  a  new  element 
come  into  action. 

Scott,  when  he  formed  the  partnership  with  James  Ballan- 
tyne,  took  the  money  which  he  contributed  from  a  fund  with 
which  he  had  intended  buying  Broadmeadows,  a  small  estate 
on  the  northern  bank  of  the  Yarrow.  He  abandoned  at  the  time 
this  design,  but  the  strong  passion  which  could  not  fail  to  pos- 
sess a  man  with  Scott's  deep  love  of  the  soil,  and  his  imagina- 
tion ever  busy  with  historic  traditions,  still  held  him ;  and  when 
the  opportunity  came,  with  the  rising  tide  of  his  own  fortunes, 
to  buy  a  farm  a  few  miles  from  Ashestiel,  he  seized  it  with 
alacrity.  Nor  was  his  venture  an  unwise  one.  He  was  tenant 
at  will  at  Ashestiel,  and  had  the  natural  desire  of  a  man  with 
a  growing  family  to  establish  himself  in  a  permanent  home. 
'The  farm,'  says  Lockhart,  'consisted  of  a  rich  meadow  or 
haugh  along  the  banks  of  the  river,  and  about  a  hundred  acres 
of  undulated  ground  behind,  all  in  a  neglected  state,  undrained, 
wretchedly  enclosed,  much  of  it  covered  with  nothing  better 
than  the  native  heath.  The  farmhouse  itself  was  small  and  poor, 
with  a  common  kail-yard  on  one  flank,  and  a  staring  barn  on  the 
other,  while  in  front  appeared  a  filthy  pond  covered  with  ducks 
and  duckweed,  from  which  the  whole  tenement  had  derived  the 
unharmonious  designation  of  Clarty  Hole.   But  the  Tweed  was 


XXIX 


BIOGRArHICAL  SKETCH 

everything  to  him  —  a  beautiful  river,  flowing  broad  and  bright 
over  a  bed  of  milk-white  pebbles,  unless  here  and  there  where  it 
darkened  into  a  deep  pool,  overhung  as  yet  only  by  the  birches 
and  alders  which  had  survived  the  statelier  growth  of  the  primi- 
tive forest ;  and  the  first  hour  that  he  took  possession  he  claimed 
for  his  farm  the  name  of  the  adjoining /orti,  situated  just  above 
the  influx  of  the  classical  tributary  Gala.  As  might  be  guessed 
from  the  name  of  Abbotsford,  these  lands  had  all  belonged  of 
old  to  the  great  Abbey  of  Melrose.' 

Abbotsford  was  in  the  heart  of  a  country  already  dear  to 
Scott  by  reason  of  its  teeming  historic  memories,  and  here  he 
began  and  continued  through  his  working  days  to  enrich  a  crea- 
tion which  was  the  embodiment  in  stone  and  wood  and  forest 
and  field  of  the  imagination  which  at  the  same  time  was  finding 
vent  in  poem  and  novel  and  history  and  essay.  The  characteris- 
tics of  the  estate  which  he  thus  formed  were  the  characteristics 
of  his  work  as  an  author  also.  There  is  the  free  nature,  the  trees 
planted  with  a  fine  sense  of  landscape  effect ;  there  is  the  repro- 
duction in  miniature  of  the  life  of  a  bygone  age,  and  there  is  the 
suggestion  of  the  stage  with  its  pasteboard  properties,  its  struc- 
tures all  front,  and  its  men  and  women  acting  a  part. 

Ruskin  has  said  with  penetrating  criticism:  'Scott's  work  is 
always  epic,  and  it  is  contrary  to  his  very  nature  to  treat  any 
subject  dramatically.'  In  explication  of  this  dictum,  Ruskin 
defines  dramatic  poetry  as  '  the  expression  by  the  poet  of  other 
people's  feelings,  his  own  not  being  told,'  and  epic  poetry  as  an 
'account  given  by  the  poet  of  other  people's  external  circum- 
stances, and  of  events  happening  to  them,  with  only  such 
expression  either  of  their  feelings,  or  his  own,  as  he  thinks  may 
be  conveniently  added.'  We  must  not  confound  the  dramatic 
with  the  theatrical.  To  Scott,  who  never  wrote  a  successful  play, 
his  figures  were  nevertheless  quite  distinctly  theatrical.  That  is 
to  say,  he  placed  them  before  his  readers  not  only  vividly,  but 
with  the  make-up  which  would  bring  into  conspicuous  light 
rather  the  outward  show  than  the  inward  reality.  Not  that  his 
persons  had  not  clearly  conceived  characters,  and  not  that  he 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

merely  missed  the  modern  analytic  presentation,  but  his  persons 
interested  him  chiefly  by  their  doing  things,  and  these  things 
were  the  incidents  and  accidents  of  life  rather  than  the  inevitable 
consequences  of  their  nature,  the  irresistible  effects  of  causes 
lying  deep  in  their  constitution.  Hence  the  delight  which  he 
takes  in  battle  and  adventure  of  all  sorts,  and  the  emphasis 
which  he  lays  upon  the  common,  elemental  qualities  of  human 
nature,  male  and  female,  rather  than  upon  the  individual  and 
eccentric.  There  is  no  destiny  in  his  poems  or  novels,  no  inevit- 
able drawing  to  a  climax  of  forces  which  are  moving  beyond  the 
power  of  restraint  which  the  author  may  in  his  own  mind  exercise. 
It  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  Scott,  breathing  the  fresh  air 
of  the  ballads  of  the  Border,  should  make  his  first  leap  into  the 
saddle  of  verse  and  ride  heartily  down  his  short,  bounding  lines. 
It  is  quite  as  natural  that,  as  his  material  grew  more  and  more 
historical  in  its  character,  and  greater  complexities  crept  in,  he 
should  find  the  narrative  of  verse  too  simple,  and  should  resort 
to  the  greater  range  and  diversity  of  prose;  and  that  once  having 
found  his  power  in  novel-writing,  he  should  have  abandoned 
poetry  as  a  vehicle  for  epic  narrative,  contenting  himself  thence- 
forth with  lyric  snatches,  and  with  brief  flights  of  verse.  More- 
over, in  poetry,  though  he  had  a  delighted  audience,  and  never 
has  failed  since  to  draw  a  large  following  entirely  satisfied  with 
his  form,  he  shared  at  the  time  the  throne  with  that  mightier, 
more  dramatic  artist,  Byron,  and  knew  also  that  men  were  be- 
ginning to  turn  their  eyes  toward  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge. 
But  in  fiction  he  held  quite  undisputed  sway.  The  fashion  in 
fiction  changes,  perhaps,  more  quickly  than  in  poetry;  its 
representation  of  the  manner  of  the  day,  even  when  it  is  con- 
sciously antiquarian  and  historic,  renders  it  largely  dependent 
on  contemporaneous  interest.  In  Scott's  day.  Fielding,  Smol- 
lett, and  Richardson  were  read  more  because  they  had  not  been 
supplanted  than  because  they  appealed  strongly  to  the  reader 
of  the  time.  A  more  genuine  attention  was  given  to  Miss 
Edgeworth,  Miss  Ferrier,  Mackenzie,  and  Gait.  But  these 
became  at  once  minor  writers  when  Scott  took  the  field,  and  he 


XXXI 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

called  into  existence  a  great  multitude  of  readers  of  fiction, 
establishing  thereby  a  habit  of  novel-reading  which  was  of  the 
greatest  service  to  the  later  novelists,  like  Dickens  and  Thack- 
eray, when  they  came  in  with  newer  appeal  to  the  changing  taste 
of  a  newer  generation. 

To  all  these  considerations  must  be  added  the  incessant 
demands  made  upon  Scott's  brain  by  the  need  of  keeping  on  its 
base  the  commercial  house  of  cards  which  he  had  helped  to 
build  and  in  which  he  was  living,  and  of  carrying  farther  and 
farther  into  reality  the  dream  of  a  baronial  estate  which  was 
Rokeby  done  in  plaster.  Thus  the  years  went  by,  full  of  active 
occupation,  with  brilliant  pageant,  indeed,  and  with  social 
excitement.  It  is  a  pleasure,  in  the  midst  of  it  all,  to  see  the  real 
Scott,  Sir  Walter  to  the  world  of  display  but  the  genuine  master 
to  Tom  Purdie  and  Will  Laidlaw,  to  note  the  wholesome  pride 
of  the  firm-footed  treader  on  his  own  acres,  the  generous  care  of 
others,  the  absence  of  cant,  religious  or  social.  And  when  the 
supreme  test  came,  the  test  of  overwhelming  misfortune,  the 
genuineness  of  this  great  nature  was  made  plain  in  the  high 
courage  with  which  he  set  about  the  task  of  paying  his  creditors, 
in  the  toil  of  year  after  year,  and  in  those  moving  passages  in  his 
diary  when  he  sat  in  his  loneliness  and  looked  fortune  in  the 
face.  Listen  to  the  entry  in  his  diary  under  date  December  l8, 
1825:  — 

'Ballantyne  called  on  me  this  morning.  Venit  ilia  suprema 
dies.  My  extremity  is  come.  Cadell  has  received  letters  from 
London  which  all  but  positively  announce  the  failure  of  Hurst 
and  Robinson,  so  that  Constable  &  Co.  must  follow,  and  I  must 
go  with  poor  James  Ballantyne  for  company.  I  suppose  it  will 
involve  my  all.  But  if  they  leave  me  £500,  I  can  still  make  it 
£1000  or  £1200  a  year.  And  if  they  take  my  salaries  of  £1300 
and  £300,  they  cannot  but  give  me  something  out  of  them.  I 
have  been  rash  in  anticipating  funds  to  buy  land,  but  then  I 
made  from  £5000  to  £10,000  a  year,  and  land  was  my  tempta- 
tion. I  think  nobody  can  lose  a  penny  —  that  is  one  comfort. 
Men  will  think  pride  has  had  a  fall.    Let  them  indulge  their 


xxxii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

own  pride  in  thinking  that  my  fall  makes  them  higher,  or  seems 
so,  at  least.  I  have  the  satisfaction  to  recollect  that  my  prosper- 
ity has  been  of  advantage  to  many,  and  that  some,  at  least,  will 
forgive  my  transient  wealth  on  account  of  the  innocence  of  my 
intentions,  and  my  real  wish  to  do  good  to  the  poor.  The  news 
will  make  sad  hearts  at  Darwick,  and  in  the  cottages  at  Abbots- 
ford,  which  I  do  not  nourish  the  least  hope  of  preserving.  It  has 
been  my  Delilah,  and  so  I  have  often  termed  it;  and  now  the 
recollection  of  the  extensive  woods  I  planted,  and  the  walks  I 
have  formed,  from  which  strangers  must  derive  both  the  plea- 
sure and  the  profit,  will  excite  feelings  likely  to  sober  my  gayest 
moments.  I  have  half  resolved  never  to  see  the  place  again. 
How  could  I  tread  my  hall  with  such  a  diminished  crest?  How 
live  a  poor  indebted  man  where  I  was  once  the  wealthy,  the 
honoured?  My  children  are  provided;  thank  God  for  that.  I 
was  to  have  gone  there  on  Saturday  in  joy  and  prosperity  to 
receive  my  friends.  My  dogs  will  wait  for  me  in  vain.  It  is 
foolish  —  but  the  thoughts  of  parting  from  these  dumb  crea- 
tures have  moved  me  more  than  any  of  the  painful  reflections  I 
have  put  down.  Poor  things,  I  must  get  them  kind  masters; 
there  may  be  yet  those  who  loving  me  may  love  my  dog  because 
it  has  been  mine.  I  must  end  this,  or  I  shall  lose  the  tone  of 
mind  with  which  men  should  meet  distress. 

*  I  find  my  dogs'  feet  on  my  knees.  I  hear  them  whining  and 
seeking  me  everywhere  —  this  is  nonsense,  but  it  is  what  they 
would  do  could  they  know  how  things  are.  Poor  Will  Laidlaw! 
poor  Tom  Purdie!  this  will  be  news  to  wring  your  heart,  and 
many  a  poor  fellow's  besides  to  whom  my  prosperity  was  daily 
bread.  .  .  .  For  myself  the  magic  wand  of  the  Unknown  is 
shivered  in  his  grasp.  He  must  henceforth  be  termed  the  Too- 
well-known.  The  feast  of  fancy  is  over  with  the  feeling  of  inde- 
pendence. I  can  no  longer  have  the  delight  of  waking  in  the 
morning  with  bright  ideas  in  my  mind,  haste  to  commit  them  to 
paper,  and  count  them  monthly,  as  the  means  of  planting  such 
groves,  and  purchasing  such  wastes;  replacing  my  dreams  of 
fiction  by  other  prospective  visions  of  walks  by  — 

xxxiii 


BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH 

Fountain  heads,  and  pathless  groves. 
Places  which  pale  passion  loves. 

This  cannot  be;  but  I  may  work  substantial  husbandry,  work 
history,  and  such  concerns.  They  will  not  be  received  with  the 
same  enthusiasm.  .  .  .  To  save  Abbotsford  I  would  attempt  all 
that  was  possible.  My  heart  clings  to  the  place  I  have  created. 
There  is  scarce  a  tree  on  it  that  does  not  owe  its  being  to  me, 
and  the  pain  of  leaving  it  is  greater  than  I  can  tell.' 

Here  we  close  our  study  of  Scott's  career.  Thenceforth  his 
energy  was  devoted  to  a  painful  clearing-away  of  the  ruins  of 
his  fortune.  With  patience  and  with  many  gleams  of  his  sunny 
temperament,  he  laboured  on.  In  the  end  the  debts  were  set- 
tled, Abbotsford  was  saved  to  his  family,  and  there  on  the  2ist 
of  September,  1832,  Scott  died.  'It  was  a  beautiful  day,'  says 
Lockhart,  'so  warm,  that  every  window  was  wide  open  —  and 
so  perfectly  still,  that  the  sound  of  all  others  most  delicious  to 
his  ear,  the  gentle  ripple  of  the  Tweed  over  its  pebbles,  was  dis- 
tinctly audible  as  we  knelt  around  the  bed,  and  his  eldest  son 
kissed  and  closed  his  eyes.' 

H.   E.  S. 


TWO  BALLADS  FROM    THE  GERMAN 
OF  BURGER 


I 


WILLIAM   AND  HELEN 

IMITATED   FROM   THE   'lENORE'    OF   BURGER 

The  Author  had  resolved  to  omit  the  following  version  of  a 
well-known  Poem,  in  any  collection  which  he  might  make  of 
his  poetical  trifles.  But  the  publishers  having  pleaded  for  its 
admission,  the  Author  has  consented,  though  not  unaware  of 
the  disadvantage  at  which  this  youthful  essay  (for  it  was  written 
in  1795)  must  appear  with  those  which  have  been  executed  by 
much  more  able  hands,  in  particular  that  of  Mr.  Taylor  of 
Norwich,  and  that  of  Mr.  Spencer. 

The  following  Translation  was  written  long  before  the  Author 
saw  any  other,  and  originated  in  the  following  circumstances:  — 
A  lady  of  high  rank  in  the  literary  world  read  this  romantic  tale, 
as  translated  by  Mr.  Taylor,  in  the  house  of  the  celebrated 
Professor  Dugald  Stewart  of  Edinburgh.  The  Author  was  not 
present,  nor  indeed  in  Edinburgh  at  the  time;  but  a  gentleman 
who  had  the  pleasure  of  hearing  the  ballad,  afterwards  told  him 
the  story,  and  repeated  the  remarkable  chorus  — 

Tramp!  tramp!  across  the  land  they  speede. 

Splash!  splash!  across  the  sea; 
Hurrah!   The  dead  can  ride  apace  I 

Dost  fear  to  ride  with  me? 

In  attempting  a  translation  then  intended  only  to  circulate 
among  friends,  the  present  Author  did  not  hesitate  to  make  use 
of  this  impressive  stanza;  for  which  freedom  he  has  since 
obtained  the  forgiveness  of  the  ingenious  gentleman  to  whom 
it  properly  belongs. 

From  heavy  dreams  fair  Helen  rose, 

And  eyed  the  dawning  red: 
'Alas,  my  love,  thou  tarriest  long! 
O  art  thou  false  or  dead?' 
3 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

With  gallant  Frederick's  princely  power 
He  sought  the  bold  Crusade, 

But  not  a  word  from  Judah's  wars 
Told  Helen  how  he  sped. 

With  Paynim  and  with  Saracen 
At  length  a  truce  was  made, 

And  every  knight  returned  to  dry 
The  tears  his  love  had  shed. 

Our  gallant  host  was  homeward  bound 

With  many  a  song  of  joy; 
Green  waved  the  laurel  in  each  plume, 

The  badge  of  victory. 

And  old  and  young,  and  sire  and  son. 
To  meet  them  crowd  the  way, 

With  shouts  and  mirth  and  melody, 
The  debt  of  love  to  pay. 

Full  many  a  maid  her  true-love  met, 
And  sobbed  in  his  embrace, 

And  fluttering  joy  in  tears  and  smiles 
Arrayed  full  many  a  face. 

Nor  joy  nor  smile  for  Helen  sad. 
She  sought  the  host  in  vain ; 
4 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

For  none  could  tell  her  William's  fate, 
If  faithless  or  if  slain. 

The  martial  band  is  past  and  gone; 

She  rends  her  raven  hair, 
And  in  distraction's  bitter  mood 

She  weeps  with  wild  despair. 

*0,  rise,  my  child,'  her  mother  said, 

*  Nor  sorrow  thus  in  vain ; 
A  perjured  lover's  fleeting  heart 
No  tears  recall  again.' 

*0  mother,  what  is  gone  is  gone, 

What's  lost  forever  lorn: 
Death,  death  alone  can  comfort  me; 
O  had  I  ne'er  been  born! 

'O,  break,  my  heart,  O,  break  at  once! 

Drink  my  life-blood,  Despair! 
No  joy  remains  on  earth  for  me, 
For  me  in  heaven  no  share.'] 

*0,  enter  not  in  judgment,  Lord!' 

The  pious  mother  prays; 
'Impute  not  guilt  to  thy  frail  child! 

She  knows  not  what  she  says. 
5 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

'O,  say  thy  pater-noster,  child! 

O,  turn  to  God  and  grace! 
His  will,  that  turned  thy  bliss  to  bale, 

Can  change  thy  bale  to  bliss.' 

'O  mother,  mother,  what  is  bliss? 

O  mother,  what  is  bale? 
My  William's  love  was  heaven  on  earth, 
Without  it  earth  is  hell. 

'Why  should  I  pray  to  ruthless  Heaven, 

Since  my  loved  William's  slain? 
I  only  prayed  for  William's  sake, 
And  all  my  prayers  were  vain.' 

'O,  take  the  sacrament,  my  child, 

And  check  these  tears  that  flow; 
By  resignation's  humble  prayer, 
O,  hallowed  be  thy  woe ! ' 

*No  sacrament  can  quench  this  fire, 

Or  slake  this  scorching  pain ; 
No  sacrament  can  bid  the  dead 
Arise  and  live  again. 

'O,  break,  my  heart,  O,  break  at  once! 
Be  thou  my  god.  Despair! 
6 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

Heaven's  heaviest  blow  has  fallen  on  me, 
And  vain  each  fruitless  prayer.' 

*0,  enter  not  in  judgment,  Lord, 

With  thy  frail  child  of  clay ! 
She  knows  not  what  her  tongue  has  spoke; 
Impute  it  not,  I  pray! 

'Forbear,  my  child,  this  desperate  woe, 

And  turn  to  God  and  grace; 
Well  can  devotion's  heavenly  glow 

Convert  thy  bale  to  bliss.' 

*0  mother,  mother,  what  is  bliss? 

O  mother,  what  is  bale? 
Without  my  William  what  were  heaven, 

Or  with  him  what  were  hell?' 

Wild  she  arraigns  the  eternal  doom, 

Upbraids  each  sacred  power. 
Till,  spent,  she  sought  her  silent  room, 

All  in  the  lonely  tower. 

She  beat  her  breast,  she  wrung  her  hands. 
Till  sun  and  day  were  o'er. 
And  through  the  glimmering  lattice  shone 
The  twinkling  of  the  star. 
7 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

Then,  crash!  the  heavy  drawbridge  fell 

That  o'er  the  moat  was  hung; 
And,  clatter!  clatter!  on  its  boards 

The  hoof  of  courser  rung. 

The  clank  of  echoing  steel  was  heard 

As  off  the  rider  bounded ; 
And  slowly  on  the  winding  stair 

A  heavy  footstep  sounded. 

And  hark!  and  hark!  a  knock  —  tap!  tap! 

A  rustling  stifled  noise ;  — 
Door-latch  and  tinkling  staples  ring;  — 

At  length  a  whispering  voice. 

/Awake,  awake,  arise,  my  love! 
How,  Helen,  dost  thou  fare? 
Wak'st  thou,  or  sleep'st?  laugh'st  thou,  or  weep'st? 
Hast  thought  on  me,  my  fair?' 

'My  love!  my  love!  —  so  late  by  night!  — 

I  waked,  I  wept  for  thee: 
Much  have  I  borne  since  dawn  of  morn; 
Where,  William,  couldst  thou  be?' 

*  We  saddle  late  —  from  Hungary 
I  rode  since  darkness  fell ; 
8 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

And  to  its  bourne  we  both  return 
Before  the  matin-bell.' 

'  O,  rest  this  night  within  my  arms, 

And  warm  thee  in  their  fold ! 
Chill  howls  through  hawthorn  bush  the  wind :  — 
My  love  is  deadly  cold.' 

*  Let  the  wind  howl  through  hawthorn  bush ! 

This  night  we  must  away ; 
The  steed  is  wight,  the  spur  is  bright ; 
I  cannot  stay  till  day. 

'Busk,  busk,  and  boune!  Thou  mount'st  behind 

Upon  my  black  barb  steed: 
O'er  stock  and  stile,  a  hundred  miles, 
We  haste  to  bridal  bed.' 

'To-night  —  to-night  a  hundred  miles!  — 

O  dearest  William,  stay! 
The  bell  strikes  twelve  —  dark,  dismal  hour! 
O,  wait,  my  love,  till  day!' 

'Look  here,  look  here  —  the  moon  shines  clear  =^ 

Full  fast  I  ween  we  ride; 
Mount  and  away !  for  ere  the  day 
We  reach  our  bridal  bed. 
9 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

'The  black  barb  snorts,  the  bridle  rings; 

Haste,  busk,  and  boune,  and  seat  thee! 
The  feast  is  made,  the  chamber  spread, 
The  bridal  guests  await  thee.' 

Strong  love  prevailed :  she  busks,  she  bounes, 

She  mounts  the  barb  behind. 
And  round  her  darhng  WiUiam's  waist 

Her  lily  arms  she  twined. 

And,  hurry!  hurry!  off  they  rode. 

As  fast  as  fast  might  be; 
Spurned  from  the  courser's  thundering  heels 

The  flashing  pebbles  flee. 

And  on  the  right  and  on  the  left, 

Ere  they  could  snatch  a  view, 
Fast,  fast  each  mountain,  mead,  and  plain, 

And  cot  and  castle  flew. 

'Sit  fast  —  dost  fear?  —  The  moon  shines  clear  — 
Fleet  goes  my  barb  —  keep  hold ! 
Fear'st  thou?'  —  'O  no!'  she  faintly  said; 
'But  why  so  stern  and  cold? 

'What  yonder  rings?  what  yonder  sings? 
Why  shrieks  the  owlet  grey?* 

lO 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

*  'T  is  death-bells'  clang,  't  is  funeral  song, 

The  body  to  the  clay. 

'With  song  and  clang  at  morrow's  dawn 

Ye  may  inter  the  dead : 
To-night  I  ride  with  my  young  bride 

To  deck  our  bridal  bed. 

*  Come  with  thy  choir,  thou  coffined  guest, 

To  swell  our  nuptial  song ! 
Come,  priest,  to  bless  our  marriage  feast ! 
Come  all,  come  all  along ! ' 

Ceased  clang  and  song ;  down  sunk  the  bier ; 

The  shrouded  corpse  arose : 
And  hurry!  hurry!  all  the  train 

The  thundering  steed  pursues. 

And  forward !  forward !  on  they  go ; 

High  snorts  the  straining  steed ; 
Thick  pants  the  rider's  labouring  breath. 

As  headlong  on  they  speed. 

*0  William,  why  this  savage  haste? 

And  where  thy  bridal  bed?' 
'  'T  is  distant  far,  low,  damp,  and  chill, 

And  narrow,  trustless  maid.' 
II 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

'No  room  for  me?'  —  'Enough  for  both;  — 
Speed,  speed,  my  barb,  thy  course!' 

O'er  thundering  bridge,  through  boihng  surge. 
He  drove  the  furious  horse. 

Tramp !  tramp !  along  the  land  they  rode, 

Splash !  splash !  along  the  sea ; 
The  scourge  is  wight,  the  spur  is  bright, 

The  flashing  pebbles  flee. 

Fled  past  on  right  and  left  how  fast 

Each  forest,  grove,  and  bower! 
On  right  and  left  fled  past  how  fast 

Each  city,  town,  and  tower! 

'Dost  fear?  dost  fear?  The  moon  shines  clear, 

Dost  fear  to  ride  with  me?  — 
Hurrah !  hurrah !  the  dead  can  ride ! '  — 
*0  William,  let  them  be!  — 

'See  there,  see  there!  What  yonder  swings 
And  creaks  mid  whistling  rain?'  — 

'Gibbet  and  steel,  the  accursed  wheel; 
A  murderer  in  his  chain.  — ^ 

'Hollo!  thou  felon,  follow  here: 
To  bridal  bed  we  ride; 

12 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

And  thou  shalt  prance  a  fetter  dance 
Before  me  and  my  bride.' 

And,  hurry!  hurry!  clash,  clash,  clash! 

The  wasted  form  descends; 
And  fleet  as  wind  through  hazel  bush 

The  wild  career  attends. 

Tramp!  tramp!  along  the  land  they  rode, 

Splash !  splash !  along  the  sea ; 
The  scourge  is  red,  the  spur  drops  blood. 

The  flashing  pebbles  flee. 

How  fled  what  moonshine  faintly  showed! 

How  fled  what  darkness  hid ! 
How  fled  the  earth  beneath  their  feet, 

The  heaven  above  their  head ! 

'Dost  fear?  dost  fear?  The  moon  shines  clear, 

And  well  the  dead  can  ride; 
Dost  faithful  Helen  fear  for  them?'  — 
*  O  leave  in  peace  the  dead ! '  — 

'Barb!  Barb!  methinks  I  hear  the  cock; 

The  sand  will  soon  be  run : 
Barb!  Barb!  I  smell  the  morning  air; 
The  race  is  well-nigh  done.' 

13 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

Tramp!  tramp!  along  the  land  they  rode, 
Splash!  splash!  along  the  sea; 

The  scourge  is  red,  the  spur  drops  blood, 
The  flashing  pebbles  flee. 

*  Hurrah !  hurrah !  well  ride  the  dead ; 

The  bride,  the  bride  is  come ; 
And  soon  we  reach  the  bridal  bed, 

For,  Helen,  here's  my  home.' 

Reluctant  on  its  rusty  hinge 

Revolved  an  iron  door, 
And  by  the  pale  moon's  setting  beam 

Were  seen  a  church  and  tower. 

With  many  a  shriek  and  cry  whiz  round 
The  birds  of  midnight  scared ; 

And  rustling  like  autumnal  leaves 
Unhallowed  ghosts  were  heard. 

O'er  many  a  tomb  and  tombstone  pale 

He  spurred  the  fiery  horse. 
Till  sudden  at  an  open  grave 

He  checked  the  wondrous  course. 

The  falling  gauntlet  quits  the  rein, 
Down  drops  the  casque  of  steel, 
14 


WILLIAM  AND  HELEN 

The  cuirass  leaves  his  shrinking  side, 
The  spur  his  gory  heel. 

The  eyes  desert  the  naked  skull, 
The  mouldering  flesh  the  bone, 

Till  Helen's  lily  arms  entwine 
A  ghastly  skeleton. 

The  furious  barb  snorts  fire  and  foam, 

And  with  a  fearful  bound 
Dissolves  at  once  in  empty  air, 

And  leaves  her  on  the  ground. 

Half  seen  by  fits,  by  fits  half  heard, 

Pale  spectres  flit  along, 
Wheel  round  the  maid  in  dismal  dance, 

And  howl  the  funeral  song; 

*  E'en  when  the  heart 's  with  anguish  cleft 

Revere  the  doom  of  Heaven, 
Her  soul  is  from  her  body  reft; 
Her  spirit  be  forgiven ! ' 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

This  is  a  translation,  or  rather  an  imitation,  of  the  Wilde  Jdger 
of  the  German  poet  Burger.  The  tradition  upon  which  it  is 
founded  bears,  that  formerly  a  Wildgrave,  or  keeper  of  a  royal 
forest,  named  Faulkenburg,  was  so  much  addicted  to  the 
pleasures  of  the  chase,  and  otherwise  so  extremely  profligate 
and  cruel,  that  he  not  only  followed  this  unhallowed  amusement 
on  the  Sabbath,  and  other  days  consecrated  to  religious  duty, 
but  accompanied  it  with  the  most  unheard-of  oppression  upon 
the  poor  peasants,  who  were  under  his  vassalage.  When  this 
second  Nimrod  died,  the  people  adopted  a  superstition,  founded 
probably  on  the  many  various  uncouth  sounds  heard  in  the 
depth  of  a  German  forest,  during  the  silence  of  the  night.  They 
conceived  they  still  heard  the  cry  of  the  Wildgrave's  hounds;  and 
the  well-known  cheer  of  the  deceased  hunter,  the  sounds  of  his 
horses*  feet,  and  the  rustling  of  the  branches  before  the  game, 
the  pack,  and  the  sportsmen,  are  also  distinctly  discriminated; 
but  the  phantoms  are  rarely,  if  ever,  visible.  Once,  as  a  benighted 
Chasseur  heard  this  infernal  chase  pass  by  him,  at  the  sound  of 
the  halloo,  with  which  the  Spectre  Huntsman  cheered  his 
hounds,  he  could  not  refrain  from  crying,  'Cluck  zu,  Falken- 
burghl '  [Good  sport  to  ye,  Falkenburgh !]  '  Dost  thou  wish  me 
good  sport?'  answered  a  hoarse  voice;  'thou  shalt  share  the 
game ' ;  and  there  was  thrown  at  him  what  seemed  to  be  a  huge 
piece  of  foul  carrion.  The  daring  Chasseur  lost  two  of  his  best 
horses  soon  after,  and  never  perfectly  recovered  the  personal 
effects  of  this  ghostly  greeting.  This  tale,  though  told  with 
some  variations,  is  universally  believed  all  over  Germany. 

The  French  had  a  similar  tradition  concerning  an  aerial 
hunter,  who  infested  the  forest  of  Fontainebleau.  He  was 
sometimes  visible;  when  he  appeared  as  a  huntsman,  surrounded 
with  dogs,  a  tall  grisly  figure.  Some  account  of  him  may  be 
found  in  Sully's  Memoirs,  who  says  he  was  called  Le  Grand 

i6 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

Veneur.  At  one  time  he  chose  to  hunt  so  near  the  palace,  that 
the  attendants,  and,  if  I  mistake  not,  Sully  himself,  came  out 
into  the  court,  supposing  it  was  the  sound  of  the  king  returning 
from  the  chase.  This  phantom  is  elsewhere  called  St.  Hubert. 

The  superstition  seems  to  have  been  very  general,  as  appears 
from  the  following  fine  poetical  description  of  this  phantom 
chase,  as  it  was  heard  in  the  wilds  of  Ross-shire. 

'  Ere  since,  of  old,  the  haughty  thanes  of  Ross,  — 
So  to  the  simple  swain  tradition  tells,  — 
Were  wont  with  clans,  and  ready  vassals  throng'd, 
To  wake  the  bounding  stag  or  guilty  wolf. 
There  oft  is  heard,  at  midnight,  or  at  noon, 
Beginming  faint,  but  rising  still  more  loud. 
And  nearer,  voice  of  hunters,  and  of  hounds. 
And  horns,  hoarse  winded,  blowing  far  and  keen:  — 
Forthwith  the  hubbub  multiplies;  the  gale 
Labours  with  wilder  shrieks,  and  rifer  din 
Of  hot  pursuit;  the  broken  cry  of  deer 
Mangled  by  throttling  dogs;  the  shouts  of  men. 
And  hoofs,  thick  beating  on  the  hollow  hill. 
Sudden  the  grazing  heifer  in  the  vale 
Stcurts  at  the  noise,  and  both  the  herdsman's  ears 
Tingle  with  inward  dread.   Aghast,  he  eyes 
The  mountain's  height,  and  all  the  ridges  round. 
Yet  not  one  trace  of  living  wight  discerns. 
Nor  knows,  o'erawed,  and  trembling  as  he  stands. 
To  what,  or  whom,  he  owes  his  idle  fear. 
To  ghost,  to  witch,  to  fairy,  or  to  fiend; 
But  wonders,  and  no  end  of  wondering  finds.' 

Albania  —  reprinted  in  Scottish  Descriptive  Poems,  pp.  167,  i68. 

A  posthumous  miracle  of  Father  Lesley,  a  Scottish  capuchin, 
related  to  his  being  buried  on  a  hill  haunted  by  these  unearthly 
cries  of  hounds  and  huntsmen.  After  his  sainted  relics  had  been 
deposited  there,  the  noise  was  never  heard  more.  The  reader 
will  find  this,  and  other  miracles,  recorded  in  the  life  of  Father 
Bonaventura,  which  is  written  in  the  choicest  Italian. 


The  Wildgrave  winds  his  bugle-horn, 
To  horse,  to  horse !  halloo,  halloo ! 

His  fiery  courser  snuffs  the  morn. 

And  thronging  serfs  their  lord  pursue. 
46  17 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

The  eager  pack  from  couples  freed 

Dash  through  the  bush,  the  brier,  the  brake; 
While  answering  hound  and  horn  and  steed 

The  mountain  echoes  startling  wake. 

The  beams  of  God's  own  hallowed  day 
Had  painted  yonder  spire  with  gold, 

And,  calling  sinful  man  to  pray, 

Loud,  long,  and  deep  the  bell  had  tolled; 

But  still  the  Wildgrave  onward  rides; 

Halloo,  halloo!  and,  hark  again! 
When,  spurring  from  opposing  sides, 

Two  stranger  horsemen  join  the  train. 

Who  was  each  stranger,  left  and  right. 
Well  may  I  guess,  but  dare  not  tell; 

The  right-hand  steed  was  silver  white. 
The  left  the  swarthy  hue  of  hell. 

The  right-hand  horseman,  young  and  fair. 
His  smile  was  like  the  morn  of  May ; 

The  left  from  eye  of  tawny  glare 
Shot  midnight  lightning's  lurid  ray. 

He  waved  his  huntsman's  cap  on  high, 
Cried,  'Welcome,  welcome,  noble  lord! 
i8 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

What  sport  can  earth,  or  sea,  or  sky, 
To  match  the  princely  chase,  afford?' 

'  Cease  thy  loud  bugle's  changing  knell,' 
Cried  the  fair  youth  with  silver  voice; 

'And  for  devotion's  choral  swell 

Exchange  the  rude  unhallowed  noise. 

*  To-day  the  ill-omened  chase  forbear, 
Yon  bell  yet  summons  to  the  fane; 

To-day  the  Warning  Spirit  hear. 

To-morrow  thou  mayst  mourn  in  vain.' 

'Away,  and  sweep  the  glades  along!* 

The  sable  hunter  hoarse  replies; 
'To  muttering  monks  leave  matin-song. 

And  bells  and  books  and  mysteries.' 

The  Wildgrave  spurred  his  ardent  steed. 
And,  launching  forward  with  a  bound, 

'Who,  for  thy  drowsy  priestlike  rede. 

Would  leave  the  jovial  horn  and  hound? 

'Hence,  if  our  manly  sport  offend! 

With  pious  fools  go  chant  and  pray :  — 
Well  hast  thou  spoke,  my  dark-browed  friend ; 
Halloo,  halloo!  and  hark  away!' 
19 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

The  Wildgrave  spurred  his  courser  light, 
O'er  moss  and  moor,  o'er  holt  and  hill; 

And  on  the  left  and  on  the  right. 

Each  stranger  horseman  followed  still. 

Up  springs  from  yonder  tangled  thorn 

A  stag  more  white  than  mountain  snow; 
And  louder  rung  the  Wildgrave's  horn, 
'Hark  forward,  forward!  holla,  ho!' 

'  A  heedless  wretch  has  crossed  the  way; 
He  gasps  the  thundering  hoofs  below ;  — 
But  live  who  can,  or  die  who  may. 
Still,  '  Forward,  forward!'  on  they  go. 

'   See,  where  yon  simple  fences  meet, 

A  field  with  autumn's  blessings  crowned ; 
See,  prostrate  at  the  Wildgrave's  feet, 
A  husbandman  with  toil  embrowned: 

*0  mercy,  mercy,  noble  lord! 

Spare  the  poor's  pittance,*  was  his  cry, 
*  Earned  by  the  sweat  these  brows  have  poured 

In  scorching  hour  of  fierce  July.' 


Earnest  the  right-hand  stranger  pleads,  i 

The  left  still  cheering  to  the  prey ;  | 

.il'    . 

20 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

The  impetuous  Earl  no  warning  heeds, 
But  furious  holds  the  onward  way. 

'Away,  thou  hound  so  basely  born, 
Or  dead  the  scourge's  echoing  blow!' 

Then  loudly  rung  his  bugle-horn, 
'Hark  forward,  forward!  holla,  ho!* 

So  said,  so  done:  —  A  single  bound 

Clears  the  poor  labourer's  humble  pale; 

Wild  follows  man  and  horse  and  hound, 
Like  dark  December's  stormy  gale. 

And  man  and  horse,  and  hound  and  horn, 
Destructive  sweep  the  field  along; 

While,  joying  o'er  the  wasted  corn. 

Fell  Famine  marks  the  maddening  throng. 

Again  uproused  the  timorous  prey 

Scours  moss  and  moor,  and  holt  and  hill ; 

Hard  run,  he  feels  his  strength  decay, 
And  trusts  for  life  his  simple  skill. 

Too  dangerous  solitude  appeared ; 

He  seeks  the  shelter  of  the  crowd ; 
Amid  the  flock's  domestic  herd 

His  harmless  head  he  hopes  to  shroud. 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

O'er  moss  and  moor,  and  holt  and  hill, 
His  track  the  steady  blood-hounds  trace; 

O'er  moss  and  moor,  unwearied  still, 
The  furious  Earl  pursues  the  chase. 

Full  lowly  did  the  herdsman  fall : 
'O  spare,  thou  noble  baron,  spare 

These  herds,  a  widow's  little  all ; 
These  flocks,  an  orphan's  fleecy  care!* 

Earnest  the  right-hand  stranger  pleads, 
The  left  still  cheering  to  the  prey; 

The  Earl  nor  prayer  nor  pity  heeds. 
But  furious  keeps  the  onward  way. 

'Unmannered  dog!  To  stop  my  sport 
Vain  were  thy  cant  and  beggar  whine, 

Though  human  spirits  of  thy  sort 
Were  tenants  of  these  carrion  kine ! ' 

Again  he  winds  his  bugle-horn, 

'Hark  forward,  forward,  holla,  ho!' 
And  through  the  herd  in  ruthless  scorn 
He  cheers  his  furious  hounds  to  go. 

In  heaps  the  throttled  victims  fall; 

Down  sinks  their  mangled  herdsman  near; 

22 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

The  murderous  cries  the  stag  appall,  — 
Again  he  starts,  new-nerved  by  fear. 

With  blood  besmeared  and  white  with  foam, 
While  big  the  tears  of  anguish  pour, 

He  seeks  amid  the  forest's  gloom 

The  humble  hermit's  hallowed  bower. 

But  man  and  horse,  and  horn  and  hound. 

Fast  rattling  on  his  traces  go; 
The  sacred  chapel  rung  around 

With,  'Hark  away!  and,  holla,  ho!  * 

All  mild,  amid  the  rout  profane. 
The  holy  hermit  poured  his  prayer; 

'Forbear  with  blood  God's  house  to  stain; 
Revere  His  altar  and  forbear ! 

'The  meanest  brute  has  rights  to  plead, 
Which,  wronged  by  cruelty  or  pride. 
Draw  vengeance  on  the  ruthless  head :  — 
Be  warned  at  length  and  turn  aside.' 

Still  the  fair  horseman  anxious  pleads; 

The  black,  wild  whooping,  points  the  prey: 
Alas!  the  Earl  no  warning  heeds, 

But  frantic  keeps  the  forward  way. 
23 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

'Holy  or  not,  or  right  or  wrong, 

Thy  altar  and  its  rites  I  spurn ; 
Not  sainted  martyrs'  sacred  song, 

Not  God  himself  shall  make  me  turn ! ' 

He  spurs  his  horse,  he  winds  his  horn, 

'Hark  forward,  forward,  holla,  ho!' 

But  ofif,  on  whirlwind's  pinions  borne, 

The  stag,  the  hut,  the  hermit,  go. 

And  horse  and  man,  and  horn  and  hound, 

And  clamour  of  the  chase,  was  gone; 
■  For  hoofs  and  howls  and  bugle-sound, 
A  deadly  silence  reigned  alone. 

Wild  gazed  the  affrighted  Earl  around ; 

He  strove  in  vain  to  wake  his  horn, 
In  vain  to  call;  for  not  a  sound 

Could  from  his  anxious  lips  be  borne. 

He  listens  for  his  trusty  hounds. 
No  distant  baying  reached  his  ears ; 

His  courser,  rooted  to  the  ground. 

The  quickening  spur  unmindful  bears. 


Still  dark  and  darker  frown  the  shades. 
Dark  as  the  darkness  of  the  grave; 
24 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

And  not  a  sound  the  still  invades, 
Save  what  a  distant  torrent  gave. 

High  o'er  the  sinner's  humbled  head 
At  length  the  solemn  silence  broke; 

And  from  a  cloud  of  swarthy  red 
The  awful  voice  of  thunder  spoke. 

*  Oppressor  of  creation  fair ! 

Apostate  Spirits'  hardened  tool ! 
Scorner  of  God !  Scourge  of  the  poor ! 

The  measure  of  thy  cup  is  full. 

*Be  chased  forever  through  the  wood, 
Forever  roam  the  affrighted  wild; 

And  let  thy  fate  instruct  the  proud, 
God's  meanest  creature  is  His  child.* 

'T  was  hushed :  —  One  flash  of  sombre  glare 
With  yellow  tinged  the  forests  brown ; 

Uprose  the  Wildgrave's  bristling  hair, 
And  horror  chilled  each  nerve  and  bone. 

Cold  poured  the  sweat  in  freezing  rill ; 

A  rising  wind  began  to  sing, 
And  louder,  louder,  louder  still, 

Brought  storm  and  tempest  on  its  wing. 
25 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

Earth  heard  the  call ;  —  her  entrails  rend ; 

From  yawning  rifts,  with  many  a  yell, 
Mixed  with  sulphureous  flames,  ascend 

The  misbegotten  dogs  of  hell. 

What  ghastly  huntsman  next  arose 
Well  may  I  guess,  but  dare  not  tell; 

His  eye  like  midnight  lightning  glows, 
His  steed  the  swarthy  hue  of  hell. 

The  Wildgrave  flies  o'er  bush  and  thorn 
With  many  a  shriek  of  helpless  woe; 

Behind  him  hound  and  horse  and  horn, 
And,  'Hark  away,  and  holla,  ho!' 

With  wild  despair's  reverted  eye. 

Close,  close  behind,  he  marks  the  throng, 

With  bloody  fangs  and  eager  cry; 
In  frantic  fear  he  scours  along.  — 

Still,  still  shall  last  the  dreadful  chase 
Till  time  itself  shall  have  an  end ; 

By  day  they  scour  earth's  caverned  space, 
At  midnight's  witching  hour  ascend. 

This  is  the  horn  and  hound  and  horse 
That  oft  the  lated  peasant  hears ; 
26 


THE  WILD  HUNTSMAN 

Appalled  he  signs  the  frequent  cross, 
When  the  wild  din  invades  his  ears. 

The  wakeful  priest  oft  drops  a  tear 
For  human  pride,  for  human  woe, 

When  at  his  midnight  mass  he  hears 
The  infernal  cry  of  '  Holla,  ho ! ' 


I 


EARLY   BALLADS  AND   LYRICS 


A  TRANSLATION   FROM   VIRGIL 

1782 
In  awful  ruins  ^tna  thunders  nigh, 
And  sends  in  pitchy  whirlwinds  to  the  sky 
Black  clouds  of  smoke,  which  still  as  they  aspire. 
From  their  dark  sides  there  bursts  the  glowing  fire; 
At  other  times  huge  balls  of  fire  are  tossed, 
That  lick  the  stars,  and  in  the  smoke  are  lost; 
Sometimes  the  mount,  with  vast  convulsions  torn. 
Emits  huge  rocks,  which  instantly  are  borne 
With  loud  explosions  to  the  starry  skies. 
The  stones  made  liquid  as  the  huge  mass  flies, 
Then  back  again  with  greater  weight  recoils. 
While  ^tna  thundering  from  the  bottom  boils. 


31 


ON  A  THUNDER-STORM 

1783 
Loud  o'er  my  head  though  awful  thunders  roll, 
And  vivid  lightnings  flash  from  pole  to  pole, 
Yet  't  is  thy  voice,  my  God,  that  bids  them  fly. 
Thy  arm  directs  those  lightnings  through  the  sky. 
Then  let  the  good  thy  mighty  name  revere. 
And  hardened  sinners  thy  just  vengeance  fear. 


32 


ON  THE  SETTING  SUN 

1783 
Those  evening  clouds,  that  setting  ray, 
And  beauteous  tints,  serve  to  display 

Their  great  Creator's  praise; 
Then  let  the  short-lived  thing  called  man, 
Whose  life 's  comprised  within  a  span, 

To  Him  his  homage  raise. 

We  often  praise  the  evening  clouds, 

And  tints  so  gay  and  bold. 
But  seldom  think  upon  our  God, 

Who  tinged  these  clouds  with  gold. 


"  33 


THE  VIOLET 


1797 


The  violet  in  her  green-wood  bower, 

Where  birchen  boughs  with  hazels  mingle, 

May  boast  itself  the  fairest  flower 
In  glen  or  copse  or  forest  dingle. 


Though  fair  her  gems  of  azure  hue, 

Beneath  the  dewdrop's  weight  reclining; 

I  've  seen  an  eye  of  lovelier  blue. 

More  sweet  through  watery  lustre  shining. 

The  summer  sun  that  dew  shall  dry 
Ere  yet  the  day  be  past  its  morrow, 

Nor  longer  in  my  false  love's  eye 
Remained  the  tear  of  parting  sorrow. 


♦ 
I 


34 


TO  A   LADY 

WITH  FLOWERS  FROM  A   ROMAN  WALL 
1797 

Take  these  flowers  which,  purple  waving, 

On  the  ruined  rampart  grew, 
Where,  the  sons  of  freedom  braving, 

Rome's  imperial  standards  flew. 

Warriors  from  the  breach  of  danger 
Pluck  no  longer  laurels  there; 

They  but  yield  the  passing  stranger 
Wild-flower  wreaths  for  Beauty's  hair. 


35 


THE  ERL-KING 

FROM  THE   GERMAN   OF   GOETHE 
1797 

O,  WHO  rides  by  night  thro'  the  woodland  so  wild? 
It  is  the  fond  father  embracing  his  child; 
And  close  the  boy  nestles  within  his  loved  arm, 
To  hold  himself  fast  and  to  keep  himself  warm. 

'  O  father,  see  yonder !  see  yonder ! '  he  says ; 
'My  boy,  upon  what  dost  thou  fearfully  gaze?'  — 
*0,  *t  is  the  Erl-King  with  his  crown  and  his  shroud.' 
*No,  my  son,  it  is  but  a  dark  wreath  of  the  cloud.* 

THE  ERL-KING  SPEAKS 

*  O,  come  and  go  with  me,  thou  loveliest  child ; 
By  many  a  gay  sport  shall  thy  time  be  beguiled; 
My  mother  keeps  for  thee  full  many  a  fair  toy, 
And  many  a  fine  flower  shall  she  pluck  for  my  boy.' 

'  O  father,  my  father,  and  did  you  not  hear 
The  Erl-King  whisper  so  low  in  my  ear?'  — 
'Be  still,  my  heart's  darling  —  my  child,  be  at  ease; 
It  was  but  the  wild  blast  as  it  sung  thro'  the  trees.* 

36 


THE  ERL-KING 

ERL-KING 

*0,  wilt  thou  go  with  me,  thou  loveliest  boy? 
My  daughter  shall  tend  thee  with  care  and  with  joy; 
She  shall  bear  thee  so  lightly  thro'  wet  and  thro'  wild, 
And  press  thee  and  kiss  thee  and  sing  to  my  child.' 

*0  father,  my  father,  and  saw  you  not  plain, 

The  Erl-King's  pale  daughter  glide  past  through  the 

rain?'  — 
*0  yes,  my  loved  treasure,  I  knew  it  full  soon; 
It  was  the  grey  willow  that  danced  to  the  moon.' 

ERL-KING 

*0,  come  and  go  with  me,  no  longer  delay, 
Or  else,  silly  child,  I  will  drag  thee  away.*  — 
*0  father!  O  father!  now,  now  keep  your  hold. 
The  Erl-King  has  seized  me  —  his  grasp  is  so  cold!' 

Sore  trembled  the  father;  he  spurred  thro'  the  wild, 
Clasping  close  to  his  bosom  his  shuddering  child ; 
He  reaches  his  dwelling  in  doubt  and  in  dread, 
But,  clasped  to  his  bosom,  the  infant  was  dead  I 


WAR-SONG 

OF   THE    ROYAL   EDINBURGH   LIGHT   DRAGOONS 
1798 

To  horse !  to  horse !  the  standard  flies, 

The  bugles  sound  the  call; 
The  Gallic  navy  stems  the  seas, 
The  voice  of  battle 's  on  the  breeze, 

Arouse  ye,  one  and  all ! 

From  high  Dunedin's  towers  we  come, 

A  band  of  brothers  true ; 
Our  casques  the  leopard's  spoils  surround. 
With  Scotland's  hardy  thistle  crowned; 

We  boast  the  red  and  blue. 

Though  tamely  crouch  to  Gallia's  frown 

Dull  Holland's  tardy  train; 
Their  ravished  toys  though  Romans  mourn ; 
Though  gallant  Switzers  vainly  spurn, 

And,  foaming,  gnaw  the  chain; 

Oh !  had  they  marked  the  avenging  call  ^ 
Their  brethren's  murder  gave, 

»  See  Note  i. 
38 


WAR-SONG 

Disunion  ne'er  their  ranks  had  mown, 
Nor  patriot  valour,  desperate  grown, 
Sought  freedom  in  the  grave! 

Should  we,  too,  bend  the  stubborn  head, 

In  Freedom's  temple  born. 
Dress  our  pale  cheek  in  timid  smile, 
To  hail  a  master  in  our  isle. 

Or  brook  a  victor's  scorn? 

No!  though  destruction  o'er  the  land 

Come  pouring  as  a  flood, 
The  sun,  that  sees  our  falling  day, 
Shall  mark  our  sabres'  deadly  sway. 

And  set  that  night  in  blood. 

For  gold  let  Gallia's  legions  fight. 

Or  plunder's  bloody  gain; 
Unbribed,  unbought,  our  swords  we  draw, 
To  guard  our  king,  to  fence  our  law, 

Nor  shall  their  edge  be  vain. 

If  ever  breath  of  British  gale 

Shall  fan  the  tri-colour. 
Or  footstep  of  invader  rude. 
With  rapine  foul,  and  red  with  blood. 

Pollute  our  happy  shore, — 
39 


WAR-SONG 

Then  farewell  home!  and  farewell  friends! 

Adieu  each  tender  tie! 
Resolved,  we  mingle  in  the  tide, 
Where  charging  squadrons  furious  ride, 

To  conquer  or  to  die. 


To  horse  I  to  horse !  the  sabres  gleam ; 

High  sounds  our  bugle  call ; 
Combined  by  honour's  sacred  tie, 
Our  word  is  Laws  and  Liberty  I 

March  forward,  one  and  all! 


SONG 

FROM  GOETZ  VON   BERLICHINGEN 

It  was  a  little  naughty  page, 

Ha!  ha! 
Would  catch  a  bird  was  closed  in  cage. 

Sa! sa! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa! sa! 
He  seized  the  cage,  the  latch  did  draw, 

Ha!  ha! 
And  in  he  thrust  his  knavish  paw. 

Sa! sa! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa! sa! 
The  bird  dashed  out,  and  gained  the  thorn. 

Ha!  ha! 
And  laughed  the  silly  fool  to  scorn! 

Sa ! sa ! 

Ha!  ha! 

Sa! sa! 


41 


SONGS 

^  FROM  THE  HOUSE   OF  ASPEN 

I 

Joy  to  the  victors,  the  sons  of  old  Aspen! 
Joy  to  the  race  of  the  battle  and  scar! 
Glory's  proud  garland  triumphantly  grasping, 
Generous  in  peace,  and  victorious  in  war. 
Honour  acquiring, 
Valour  inspiring, 
Bursting,  resistless,  through  foemen  they  go; 
War-axes  wielding, 
Broken  ranks  yielding. 
Till  from  the  battle  proud  Roderic  retiring, 
Yields  in  wild  rout  the  fair  palm  to  his  foe. 

Joy  to  each  warrior,  true  follower  of  Aspen ! 

Joy  to  the  heroes  that  gained  the  bold  day! 
Health  to  our  wounded,  in  agony  gasping; 
Peace  to  our  brethren  that  fell  in  the  fray! 
Boldly  this  morning, 
Roderic's  power  scorning, 
Well  for  their  chieftain  their  blades  did  they  wield : 
Joy  blest  them  dying, 
As  Maltingen  flying. 
Low  laid  his  banners,  our  conquest  adorning. 
Their  death-clouded  eye-balls  descried  on  the  field ! 

42 


SONGS 

Now  to  our  home,  the  proud  mansion  of  Aspen 

Bend  we,  gay  victors,  triumphant  away. 
There  each  fond  damsel,  her  gallant  youth  clasping, 
Shall  wipe  from  his  forehead  the  stains  of  the  fray. 
Listening  the  prancing 
Of  horses  advancing; 
E'en  now  on  the  turrets  our  maidens  appear. 
Love  our  hearts  warming, 
Songs  the  night  charming, 
Round  goes  the  grape  in  the  goblet  gay  dancing; 
Love,  wine,  and  song,  our  blithe  evening  shall  cheer! 

II 

Sweet  shone  the  sun  on  the  fair  lake  of  Toro, 

Weak  were  the  whispers  that  waved  the  dark  wood, 
As  a  fair  maiden,  bewildered  in  sorrow, 

Sighed  to  the  breezes  and  wept  to  the  flood. — 
'Saints,  from  the  mansion  of  bliss  lowly  bending, 

Virgin,  that  hear'st  the  poor  suppliant's  cry. 
Grant  my  petition,  in  anguish  ascending, 

My  Frederick  restore,  or  let  Eleanor  die.' 

Distant  and  faint  were  the  sounds  of  the  battle; 

With  the  breezes  they  rise,  with  the  breezes  they  fail. 
Till  the  shout,  and  the  groan,  and  the  conflict's  dread 
rattle. 
And  the  chase's  wild  clamour  came  loading  the  gale. 

43 


SONGS 

Breathless  she  gazed  through  the  woodland  so  dreary, 
Slowly  approaching,  a  warrior  was  seen ; 

Life's  ebbing  tide  marked  his  footsteps  so  weary, 
Cleft  was  his  helmet,  and  woe  was  his  mien. 

'Save  thee,  fair  maid,  for  our  armies  are  flying; 

Save  thee,  fair  maid,  for  thy  guardian  is  low; 
Cold  on  yon  heath  thy  bold  Frederick  is  lying. 

Fast  through  the  woodland  approaches  the  foe.* 

Ill 

RHEIN-WEIN   LIED 

What  makes  the  troopers'  frozen  courage  muster? 

The  grapes  of  juice  divine. 
Upon  the  Rhine,  upon  the  Rhine  they  cluster: 

Oh,  blessed  be  the  Rhine! 

Let  fringe  and  furs,  and  many  a  rabbit  skin,  sirs, 

Bedeck  your  Saracen ; 
He'll  freeze  without  what  warms  our  heart  within,  sirs. 

When  the  night-frost  crusts  the  fen. 

But  on  the  Rhine,  but  on  the  Rhine  they  cluster. 

The  grapes  of  juice  divine, 
That  makes  our  troopers'  frozen  courage  muster: 

Oh,  blessed  be  the  Rhine! 


GLENFINLAS; 

OR 

LORD  Ronald's  coronach 
1799 

For  them  the  viewless  forms  of  air  obey, 

Their  bidding  heed,  and  at  their  beck  repair; 

They  linow  what  spirit  brews  the  stormful  day, 
And  heartless  oft,  like  moody  madness  stare. 

To  see  the  phantom-train  their  secret  work  prepare. 


Collins. 


The  simple  tradition,  upon  which  the  following  stanzas  are 
founded,  runs  thus:  While  two  Highland  hunters  were  passing 
the  night  in  a  solitary  hothy  (a  hut,  built  for  the  purpose  of 
hunting),  and  making  merry  over  their  venison  and  whisky,  one 
of  them  expressed  a  wish  that  they  had  pretty  lasses  to  complete 
their  party.  The  words  were  scarcely  uttered,  when  two  beau- 
tiful young  women,  habited  in  green,  entered  the  hut,  dancing 
and  singing.  One  of  the  hunters  was  seduced  by  the  siren  who 
attached  herself  particularly  to  him,  to  leave  the  hut:  the 
other  remained,  and,  suspicious  of  the  fair  seducers,  continued 
to  play  upon  a  trump,  or  Jew's  harp,  some  strain,  consecrated 
to  the  Virgin  Mary.  Day  at  length  came,  and  the  temptress 
vanished.  Searching  in  the  forest,  he  found  the  bones  of  his 
unfortunate  friend,  who  had  been  torn  to  pieces  and  devoured 
by  the  fiend  into  whose  toils  he  had  fallen.  The  place  was  from 
thence  called  the  Glen  of  the  Green  Women. 

Glenfinlas  is  a  tract  of  forest-ground,  lying  in  the  Highlands 
of  Perthshire,  not  far  from  Callender,  in  Menteith.  It  was  for- 
merly a  royal  forest,  and  now  belongs  to  the  Earl  of  Moray. 
This  country,  as  well  as  the  adjacent  district  of  Balquidder, 
was,  in  times  of  yore,  chiefly  inhabited  by  the  Macgregors.  To 
the  west  of  the  Forest  of  Glenfinlas  lies  Loch  Katrine,  and  its 
romantic  avenue,  called  the  Troshachs.   Benledi,  Benmore,  and 

45 


GLENFINLAS 

Benvoirlich  are  mountains  in  the  same  district,  and  at  no  great 
distance  from  Glenfinlas.  The  River  Teith  passes  Callender  and 
the  Castle  of  Doune,  and  joins  the  Forth  near  Stirling.  The 
Pass  of  Lenny  is  immediately  above  Callender,  and  is  the  prin- 
cipal access  to  the  Highlands,  from  that  town.  Glenartney  is  a 
forest,  near  Benvoirlich.  The  whole  forms  a  sublime  tract  of 
Alpine  scenery. 

This  ballad  first  appeared  in  the  Tales  of  Wonder. 

*  O  HONE  a  rie* !  O  hone  a  rie' ! 

The  pride  of  Albin's  line  is  o'er, 
And  fallen  Glenartney 's  stateliest  tree; 
We  ne'er  shall  see  Lord  Ronald  more ! ' 

O!  sprung  from  great  Macgilllanore, 

The  chief  that  never  feared  a  foe. 
How  matchless  was  thy  broad  claymore, 

How  deadly  thine  unerring  bow! 

Well  can  the  Saxon  widows  tell 

How  on  the  Teith's  resounding  shore 

The  boldest  Lowland  warriors  fell, 
As  down  from  Lenny's  pass  you  bore. 

But  o'er  his  hills  in  festal  day 

How  blazed  Lord  Ronald's  beltane-tree,^ 

While  youths  and  maids  the  light  strathspey 
So  nimbly  danced  with  Highland  glee! 

«  See  Note  2. 
46 


GLENFINLAS 

Cheered  by  the  strength  of  Ronald's  shell, 
E'en  age  forgot  his  tresses  hoar ; 

But  now  the  loud  lament  we  swell, 
O,  ne'er  to  see  Lord  Ronald  more! 

From  distant  isles  a  chieftain  came 
The  joys  of  Ronald's  halls  to  find. 

And  chase  with  him  the  dark-brown  game 
That  bounds  o'er  Albin's  hills  of  wind. 

'T  was  Moy ;  whom  in  Columba's  isle 
The  seer's  prophetic  spirit  found, ^ 

As,  with  a  minstrel's  fire  the  while, 

He  waked  his  harp's  harmonious  sound. 

Full  many  a  spell  to  him  was  known 
Which  wandering  spirits  shrink  to  hear ; 

And  many  a  lay  of  potent  tone 
Was  never  meant  for  mortal  ear. 

For  there,  *t  is  said,  in  mystic  mood 
High  converse  with  the  dead  they  hold. 

And  oft  espy  the  fated  shroud 

That  shall  the  future  corpse  enfold. 

O,  so  it  fell  that  on  a  day, 

To  rouse  the  red  deer  from  their  den, 

>  See  Note  3. 

47 


GLENFINLAS 

The  chiefs  have  ta'en  their  distant  way, 
And  scoured  the  deep  Glenfinlas  glen. 

No  vassals  wait  their  sports  to  aid, 

To  watch  their  safety,  deck  their  board; 

Their  simple  dress  the  Highland  plaid, 
Their  trusty  guard  the  Highland  sword. 

Three  summer  days  through  brake  and  dell 
Their  whistling  shafts  successful  flew; 

And  still  when  dewy  evening  fell 
The  quarry  to  their  hut  they  drew. 

In  gray  Glenfinlas'  deepest  nook 

The  solitary  cabin  stood,  o 

Fast  by  Moneira's  sullen  brook. 

Which  murmurs  through  that  lonely  wood. 

Soft  fell  the  night,  the  sky  was  calm, 
When  three  successive  days  had  flown ; 

And  summer  mist  in  dewy  balm 

Steeped  heathy  bank  and  mossy  stone. 

The  moon,  half-hid  in  silvery  flakes, 

Afar  her  dubious  radiance  shed, 
Quivering  on  Katrine's  distant  lakes, 

And  resting  on  Benledi's  head. 
48 


GLENFINLAS 

Now  in  their  hut  in  social  guise 
Their  sylvan  fare  the  chiefs  enjoy; 

And  pleasure  laughs  in  Ronald's  eyes, 
As  many  a  pledge  he  quaffs  to  Moy. 

*  What  lack  we  here  to  crown  our  bliss, 
While  thus  the  pulse  of  joy  beats  high? 

What  but  fair  woman's  yielding  kiss, 
Her  panting  breath  and  melting  eye? 

*To  chase  the  deer  of  yonder  shades. 
This  morning  left  their  father's  pile 

The  fairest  of  our  mountain  maids, 
The  daughters  of  the  proud  Glengyle. 

'Long  have  I  sought  sweet  Mary's  heart, 
And  dropped  the  tear  and  heaved  the  sigh : 

But  vain  the  lover's  wily  art 
Beneath  a  sister's  watchful  eye. 

'But  thou  mayst  teach  that  guardian  fair, 
While  far  with  Mary  I  am  flown, 

Of  other  hearts  to  cease  her  care, 
And  find  it  hard  to  guard  her  own. 

'Touch  but  thy  harp,  thou  soon  shalt  see 
The  lovely  Flora  of  Glengyle, 
46  49 


GLENFINLAS 

Unmindful  of  her  charge  and  me, 

Hang  on  thy  notes  'twixt  tear  and  smile. 

*  Or,  if  she  choose  a  melting  tale. 

All  underneath  the  greenwood  bough, 
Will  good  Saint  Oran's  rule  prevail,^ 
Stern  huntsman  of  the  rigid  brow?  * 

'Since  Enrick's  fight,  since  Morna's  death, 

No  more  on  me  shall  rapture  rise, 
Responsive  to  the  panting  breath. 
Or  yielding  kiss  or  melting  eyes. 

'E'en  then,  when  o'er  the  heath  of  woe 

Where  sunk  my  hopes  of  love  and  fame, 
I  bade  my  harp's  wild  wailings  flow, 
On  me  the  Seer's  sad  spirit  came. 

'The  last  dread  curse  of  angry  heaven. 
With  ghastly  sights  and  sounds  of  woe 

To  dash  each  glimpse  of  joy  was  given  — 
The  gift  the  future  ill  to  know. 

'The  bark  thou  saw'st,  yon  summer  morn, 

So  gayly  part  from  Oban's  bay, 
My  eye  beheld  her  dashed  and  torn 
Far  on  the  rocky  Colonsay. 

>  See  Note  4. 

SO 


A\ 


GLENFINLAS 

*Thy  Fergus  too  —  thy  sister's  son, 

Thou  saw'st  with  pride  the  gallant's  power, 
As  marching  'gainst  the  Lord  of  Downe 
He  left  the  skirts  of  huge  Benmore. 

*Thou  only  saw'st  their  tartans  wave 

As  down  Benvoirlich's  side  they  wound, ' 
Heard'st  but  the  pibroch  answering  brave 
To  many  a  target  clanking  round. 

*  I  heard  the  groans,  I  marked  the  tears, 

I  saw  the  wound  his  bosom  bore, 
When  on  the  serried  Saxon  spears 
He  poured  his  clan's  resistless  roar. 

'And  thou,  who  bidst  me  think  of  bliss, 

And  bidst  my  heart  awake  to  glee, 
And  court  like  thee  the  wanton  kiss  — 
That  heart,  O  Ronald,  bleeds  for  thee! 

*I  see  the  death-damps  chill  thy  brow: 

I  hear  thy  Warning  Spirit  cry; 
The  corpse-lights  dance —  they're  gone,  and  now 
No  more  is  given  to  gifted  eyel' 

*  Alone  enjoy  thy  dreary  dreams, 

Sad  prophet  of  the  evil  hour! 
SI 


GLENFINLAS 

Say,  should  we  scorn  joy's  transient  beams 
Because  to-morrow's  storm  may  lour? 

'  Or  false  or  sooth  thy  words  of  woe, 

Clangilllan's  Chieftain  ne'er  shall  fear; 
His  blood  shall  bound  at  rapture's  glow, 
Though  doomed  to  stain  the  Saxon  spear. 

'E'en  now,  to  meet  me  in  yon  dell, 

My  Mary's  buskins  brush  the  dew.* 
He  spoke,  nor  bade  the  chief  farewell, 
But  called  his  dogs  and  gay  withdrew. 

Within  an  hour  returned  each  hound, 

In  rushed  the  rousers  of  the  deer; 
,  They  howled  in  melancholy  sound. 
Then  closely  couched  beside  the  Seer. 

No  Ronald  yet,  though  midnight  came. 
And  sad  were  Moy's  prophetic  dreams, 

As,  bending  o'er  the  dying  flame, 

He  fed  the  watch-fire's  quivering  gleams. 

Sudden  the  hounds  erect  their  ears. 
And  sudden  cease  their  moaning  howl, 

Close  pressed  to  Moy,  they  mark  their  fears 
By  shivering  limbs  and  stifled  growl. 
52 


GLENFINLAS 

Untouched  the  harp  began  to  ring 
As  softly,  slowly,  oped  the  door ; 

And  shook  responsive  every  string 
As  light  a  footstep  pressed  the  floor. 

And  by  the  watch-fire's  glimmering  light 
Close  by  the  minstrel's  side  was  seen 

An  huntress  maid,  in  beauty  bright, 
All  dropping  wet  her  robes  of  green. 

All  dropping  wet  her  garments  seemed, 
Chilled  was  her  cheek,  her  bosom  bare, 

As,  bending  o'er  the  dying  gleam. 

She  wrung  the  moisture  from  her  hair. 

With  maiden  blush  she  softly  said, 
'  O  gentle  huntsman,  hast  thou  seen, 

In  deep  Glenfinlas'  moonlight  glade, 
A  lovely  maid  in  vest  of  green : 

'With  her  a  chief  in  Highland  pride; 

His  shoulders  bear  the  hunter's  bow, 
The  mountain  dirk  adorns  his  side. 

Far  on  the  wind  his  tartans  flow?*  — 

'And  who  art  thou?  and  who  are  they?' 
All  ghastly  gazing,  Moy  replied : 
53 


GLENFINLAS 

'And  why,  beneath  the  moon's  pale  ray, 
Dare  ye  thus  roam  Glenfinlas'  side?' 

'Where  wild  Loch  Katrine  pours  her  tide, 

Blue,  dark,  and  deep,  round  many  an  isle. 
Our  father's  towers  o'erhang  her  side. 
The  castle  of  the  bold  Glengyle. 

•To  chase  the  dun  Glenfinlas  deer 

Our  woodland  course  this  morn  we  bore, 

And  haply  met  while  wandering  here 
The  son  of  great  Macgillianore. 

*0,  aid  me  then  to  seek  the  pair. 

Whom,  loitering  in  the  woods,  I  lost; 
Alone  I  dare  not  venture  there. 

Where  walks,  they  say,  the  shrieking  ghost.' 

'Yes,  many  a  shrieking  ghost  walks  there; 

Then  first,  my  own  sad  vow  to  keep, 
Here  will  I  pour  my  midnight  prayer, 
Which  still  must  rise  when  mortals  sleep.* 

*0,  first,  for  pity's  gentle  sake, 

Guide  a  lone  wanderer  on  her  way! 
For  I  must  cross  the  haunted  brake. 
And  reach  my  father's  towers  ere  day.' 
54 


GLENFINLAS 

'First,  three  times  tell  each  Ave-bead, 

And  thrice  a  Pater-noster  say; 
Then  kiss  with  me  the  holy  rede ; 
So  shall  we  safely  wend  our  way.' 

*0,  shame  to  knighthood,  strange  and  foul! 

Go,  doff  the  bonnet  from  thy  brow, 
And  shroud  thee  in  the  monkish  cowl, 
Which  best  befits  thy  sullen  vow. 

'Not  so,  by  high  Dunlathmon's  fire, 

Thy  heart  was  froze  to  love  and  joy, 
When  gaily  rung  thy  raptured  lyre 
To  wanton  Morna's  melting  eye.' 

Wild  stared  the  minstrel's  eyes  of  flame 
And  high  his  sable  locks  arose. 

And  quick  his  colour  went  and  came 
As  fear  and  rage  alternate  rose. 

'And  thou!  when  by  the  blazing  oak  ' 

I  lay,  to  her  and  love  resigned, 
Say,  rode  ye  on  the  eddying  smoke, 
Or  sailed  ye  on  the  midnight  wind? 

'Not  thine  a  race  of  mortal  blood, 
Nor  old  Glengyle's  pretended  line; 

5S 


GLENFINLAS 

Thy  dame,  the  Lady  of  the  Flood  — 
Thy  sire,  the  Monarch  of  the  Mine.' 

He  muttered  thrice  Saint  Oran's  rhyme, 
And  thrice  Saint  Fillan's  powerful  prayer;  * 

Then  turned  him  to  the  eastern  cHme, 
And  sternly  shook  his  coal-black  hair. 

And,  bending  o'er  his  harp,  he  flung 

His  wildest  witch-notes  on  the  wind ; 
And  loud  and  high  and  strange  they  rung, 

As  many  a  magic  change  they  find. 

Tall  waxed  the  Spirit's  altering  form, 

Till  to  the  roof  her  stature  grew; 
Then,  mingling  with  the  rising  storm, 

With  one  wild  yell  away  she  flew. 

Rain  beats,  hail  rattles,  whirlwinds  tear: 

The  slender  hut  in  fragments  flew;  \ 

But  not  a  lock  of  Moy's  loose  hair 

Was  waved  by  wind  or  wet  by  dew. 

Wild  mingling  with  the  howling  gale. 

Loud  bursts  of  ghastly  laughter  rise; 
High  o'er  the  minstrel's  head  they  sail 

And  die  amid  the  northern  skies. 

»  See  Note  s. 

S6 


GLENFINLAS 

The  voice  of  thunder  shook  the  wood, 
As  ceased  the  more  than  mortal  yell; 

And  spattering  foul  a  shower  of  blood 
Upon  the  hissing  firebrands  fell. 

Next  dropped  from  high  a  mangled  arm; 

The  fingers  strained  an  half-drawn  blade: 
And  last,  the  life-blood  streaming  warm, 

Torn  from  the  trunk,  a  gasping  head. 

Oft  o'er  that  head  in  battling  field 

Streamed  the  proud  crest  of  high  Benmore ; 
That  arm  the  broad  claymore  could  wield 

Which  dyed  the  Teith  with  Saxon  gore. 

Woe  to  Moneira's  sullen  rills! 

Woe  to  Glenfinlas'  dreary  glen! 
There  never  son  of  Albin's  hills 

Shall  draw  the  hunter's  shaft  agen ! 

E'en  the  tired  pilgrim's  burning  feet 
At  noon  shall  shun  that  sheltering  den, 

Lest,  journeying  in  their  rage,  he  meet 
The  wayward  Ladies  of  the  Glen. 

And  we  —  behind  the  chieftain's  shield 
No  more  shall  we  in  safety  dwell ; 
57 


GLENFINLAS 

None  leads  the  people  to  the  field  — 
And  we  the  loud  lament  must  swell. 

O  hone  a  rie' !  O  hone  a  rie' ! 

The  pride  of  Albin's  line  is  o'er! 
And  fallen  Glenartney's  stateliest  tree; 

We  ne'er  shall  see  Lord  Ronald  more! 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 
1799 
The  Baron  of  Smaylho'me  rose  with  day,* 

He  spurred  his  courser  on, 
Without  stop  or  stay,  down  the  rocky  way, 
That  leads  to  Brotherstone. 

He  went  not  with  the  bold  Buccleuch 

His  banner  broad  to  rear; 
He  went  not  'gainst  the  English  yew 

To  Hft  the  Scottish  spear. 

Yet  his  plate- jack  was  braced  and  his  helmet  was  laced. 

And  his  vaunt-brace  of  proof  he  wore ; 
At  his  saddle-gerthe  was  a  good  steel  sperthe. 

Full  ten  pound  weight  and  more. 

The  baron  returned  in  three  days'  space, 

And  his  looks  were  sad  and  sour; 
And  weary  was  his  courser's  pace 

As  he  reached  his  rocky  tower. 

He  came  not  from  where  Ancram  Moor  * 
Ran  red  with  English  blood; 

«  See  Note  6.  •  See  Note  7. 

59 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

Where  the  Douglas  true  and  the  bold  Buccleuch 
'Gainst  keen  Lord  Evers  stood. 


Yet  was  his  helmet  hacked  and  hewed. 

His  action  pierced  and  tore, 
His  axe  and  his  dagger  with  blood  imbrued,  — 

But  it  was  not  English  gore. 

He  lighted  at  the  Chapellage, 

He  held  him  close  and  still; 
And  he  whistled  thrice  for  his  little  foot-page, 

His  name  was  English  Will. 

'Come  thou  hither,  my  little  foot-page, 

Come  hither  to  my  knee; 
Though  thou  art  young  and  tender  of  age, 
I  think  thou  art  true  to  me. 

'  Come,  tell  me  all  that  thou  hast  seen. 

And  look  thou  tell  me  true! 
Since  I  from  Smaylho'me  tower  have  been, 
What  did  thy  lady  do?' 

*My  lady,  each  night,  sought  the  lonely  light 
That  burns  on  the  wild  Watchfold ; 
For  from  height  to  height  the  beacons  bright 
Of  the  English  foemen  told. 
60 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

'The  bittern  clamoured  from  the  moss, 

The  wind  blew  loud  and  shrill ; 
Yet  the  craggy  pathway  she  did  cross 
To  the  eiry  Beacon  Hill. 

'  I  watched  her  steps,  and  silent  came 

Where  she  sat  her  on  a  stone ;  — 
No  watchman  stood  by  the  dreary  flame, 
It  burned  all  alone. 

'The  second  night  I  kept  her  in  sight 

Till  to  the  fire  she  came, 
And,  by  Mary's  might!  an  armed  knight 
Stood  by  the  lonely  flame. 

'And  many  a  word  that  warlike  lord 

Did  speak  to  my  lady  there; 
But  the  rain  fell  fast  and  loud  blew  the  blast. 
And  I  heard  not  what  they  were. 

'The  third  night  there  the  sky  was  fair, 
And  the  mountain-blast  was  still. 
As  again  I  watched  the  secret  pair 
On  the  lonesome  Beacon  Hill. 

'And  I  heard  her  name  the  midnight  hour, 
And  name  this  holy  eve; 
6i 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

And  say,  "Come  this  night  to  thy  lady's  bower; 
Ask  no  bold  baron's  leave. 


*"He  lifts  his  spear  with  the  bold  Buccleuch; 
His  lady  is  all  alone; 
The  door  she  '11  undo  to  her  knight  so  true 
On  the  eve  of  good  Saint  John." 

*"I  cannot  come;  I  must  not  come; 
I  dare  not  come  to  thee; 
On  the  eve  of  Saint  John  I  must  wander  alone : 
In  thy  bower  I  may  not  be." 

*"Now,  out  on  thee,  faint-hearted  knight! 
Thou  shouldst  not  say  me  nay ; 
For  the  eve  is  sweet,  and  when  lovers  meet 
Is  worth  the  whole  summer's  day. 

'"And  I  '11  chain  the  blood-hound,  and  the  warder  shall 
not  sound. 
And  rushes  shall  be  strewed  on  the  stair; 
So,  by  the  black  rood-stone  ^  and  by  holy  Saint  John, 
I  conjure  thee,  my  love,  to  be  there!" 

'"Though   the  blood-hound   be   mute   and   the   rush 
beneath  my  foot, 

»  The  black  rood  of  Melrose  was  a  crucifix  of  black  marble,  and  of  superior 
sanctity. 

62 


i 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

And  the  warder  his  bugle  should  not  blow, 
Yet  there  sleepeth  a  priest  in  the  chamber  to  the  east, 
And  my  footstep  he  would  know." 

*"0,  fear  not  the  priest  who  sleepeth  to  the  east, 
For  to  Dryburgh  the  way  he  has  ta'en ; 

And  there  to  say  mass,  till  three  days  do  pass, 
For  the  soul  of  a  knight  that  is  slayne." 

*  He  turned  him  around  and  grimly  he  frowned ; 

Then  he  laughed  right  scornfully  — 
"He  who  says  the  mass-rite  for  the  soul  of  that  knight 

May  as  well  say  mass  for  me: 

*"At  the  lone  midnight  hour  when  bad  spirits  have 
power 

In  thy  chamber  will  I  be."  — 
With  that  he  was  gone  and  my  lady  left  alone. 

And  no  more  did  I  see.' 

Then  changed,  I  trow,  was  that  bold  baron's  brow 

From  the  dark  to  the  blood-red  high ; 
'Now,  tell  me  the  mien  of  the  knight  thou  hast  seen, 

For,  by  Mary,  he  shall  die!' 

'His  arms  shone  full  bright  in  the  beacon's  red  light; 
His  plume  it  was  scarlet  and  blue; 

63 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

On  his  shield  was  a  hound  in  a  silver  leash  bound, 
And  his  crest  was  a  branch  of  the  yew.' 

'Thou  liest,  thou  liest,  thou  little  foot-page, 

Loud  dost  thou  lie  to  me! 
For  that  knight  is  cold  and  low  laid  in  the  mould, 
All  under  the  Eildon-tree.'  ^ 

'Yet  hear  but  my  word,  my  noble  lord! 

For  I  heard  her  name  his  name; 
And  that  lady  bright,  she  called  the  knight 
Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame.' 

The  bold  baron's  brow  then  changed,  I  trow, 
From  high  blood-red  to  pale  — 
'  The  grave  is  deep  and  dark  —  and  the  corpse  is 
stiff  and  stark  — 
So  I  may  not  trust  thy  tale. 

'Where  fair  Tweed  flows  round  holy  Melrose, 
And  Eildon  slopes  to  the  plain, 
Full  three  nights  ago  by  some  secret  foe 
That  gay  gallant  was  slain. 

'The  varying  light  deceived  thy  sight. 
And  the  wild  winds  drowned  the  name; 

«  See  Note  8. 
64 


I 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

For  the  Dryburgh  bells  ring  and  the  white  monks  do  sing 
For  Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame ! ' 

He  passed  the  court-gate  and  he  oped  the  tower-gate, 

And  he  mounted  the  narrow  stair 
To  the  bartizan-seat  where,  with  maids  that  on  her  wait, 

He  found  his  lady  fair. 

That  lady  sat  in  mournful  mood ; 

Looked  over  hill  and  vale ; 
Over  Tweed's  fair  flood  and  Mertoun's  wood, 

And  all  down  Teviotdale. 

'Now  hail,  now  hail,  thou  lady  bright!' 

'Now  hail,  thou  baron  true! 
What  news,  what  news,  from  Ancram  fight? 

What  news  from  the  bold  Buccleuch?' 

'The  Ancram  moor  is  red  with  gore, 

For  many  a  Southern  fell; 
And  Buccleuch  has  charged  us  evermore 

To  watch  our  beacons  well,' 

The  lady  blushed  red,  but  nothing  she  said: 

Nor  added  the  baron  a  word : 
Then  she  stepped  down  the  stair  to  her  chamber  fair. 

And  so  did  her  moody  lord. 
46  65 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

In  sleep  the  lady  mourned,  and  the  baron  tossed 
and  turned, 
And  oft  to  himself  he  said,  — 
'The  worms  around   him    creep,   and  his   bloody 
grave  is  deep  — 
It  cannot  give  up  the  dead !  * 

It  was  near  the  ringing  of  matin-bell, 

The  night  was  well-nigh  done. 
When  a  heavy  sleep  on  that  baron  fell, 

On  the  eve  of  good  Saint  John. 

The  lady  looked  through  the  chamber  fair, 

By  the  light  of  a  dying  flame; 
And  she  was  aware  of  a  knight  stood  there  — 

Sir  Richard  of  Coldinghame ! 

'Alas!  away,  away!'  she  cried, 
'  For  the  holy  Virgin's  sake ! ' 
,*Lady,  I  know  who  sleeps  by  thy  side; 
But,  lady,  he  will  not  awake. 

*By  Eildon-tree  for  long  nights  three 
In  bloody  grave  have  I  lain ; 
The  mass  and  the  death-prayer  are  said  for  me, 
But,  lady,  they  are  said  in  vain. 
66 


I 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

*By  the  baron's  brand,  near  Tweed's  fair  strand, 
Most  foully  slain  I  fell ; 
And  my  restless  sprite  on  the  beacon's  height 
For  a  space  is  doomed  to  dwell. 

*At  our  trysting-place,  for  a  certain  space, 
I  must  wander  to  and  fro; 
But  I  had  not  had  power  to  come  to  thy  bower 
Hadst  thou  not  conjured  me  so. ' 

Love  mastered  fear  —  her  brow  she  crossed; 

'How,  Richard,  hast  thou  sped? 
And  art  thou  saved  or  art  thou  lost?' 
The  vision  shook  his  head ! 

*Who  spilleth  life  shall  forfeit  life; 
So  bid  thy  lord  believe: 
That  lawless  love  is  guilt  above. 
This  awful  sign  receive.' 

He  laid  his  left  palm  on  an  oaken  beam, 

His  right  upon  her  hand ; 
The  lady  shrunk  and  fainting  sunk, 

For  it  scorched  like  a  fiery  brand. 

The  sable  score  of  fingers  four 

Remains  on  that  board  impressed ; 
67 


THE  EVE  OF  SAINT  JOHN 

And  forevermore  that  lady  wore 
A  covering  on  her  wrist. 

There  is  a  nun  in  Dryburgh  bower 

Ne'er  looks  upon  the  sun; 
There  is  a  monk  in  Melrose  tower 

He  speaketh  word  to  none. 

That  nun  who  ne'er  beholds  the  day,* 
That  monk  who  speaks  to  none  — 

That  nun  was  Smaylho'me's  lady  gay, 
That  monk  the  bold  baron. 

»  See  Note  g.    , 


THE  GREY   BROTHERS 

1799 

The  Pope  he  was  saying  the  high,  high  mass 

All  on  Saint  Peter's  day, 
With  the  power  to  him  given  by  the  saints  in  heaven 

To  wash  men's  sins  away. 

The  Pope  he  was  saying  the  blessed  mass, 

And  the  people  kneeled  around, 
And  from  each  man's  soul  his  sins  did  pass, 

As  he  kissed  the  holy  ground. 

And  all  among  the  crowded  throng 

Was  still,  both  limb  and  tongue. 
While  through  vaulted  roof  and  aisles  aloof 

The  holy  accents  rung. 

At  the  holiest  word  he  quivered  for  fear. 

And  faltered  in  the  sound  — 
And  when  he  would  the  chalice  rear 

He  dropped  it  to  the  ground. 

'The  breath  of  one  of  evil  deed 
Pollutes  our  sacred  day; ^ 
He  has  no  portion  in  our  creed, 
No  part  in  what  I  say. 

•  See  Note  10.  '  See  Note  ir. 

69 


THE   GREY  BROTHER 

*A  being  whom  no  blessed  word 
To  ghostly  peace  can  bring, 
A  wretch  at  whose  approach  abhorred 
Recoils  each  holy  thing. 

*Up,  up,  unhappy!  haste,  arise! 
My  adjuration  fear! 
I  charge  thee  not  to  stop  my  voice, 
Nor  longer  tarry  here ! ' 

Amid  them  all  a  pilgrim  kneeled 
In  gown  of  sackcloth  grey; 

Far  journeying  from  his  native  field, 
He  first  saw  Rome  that  day. 

For  forty  days  and  nights  so  drear 

I  ween  he  had  not  spoke, 
And,  save  with  bread  and  water  clear, 

His  fast  he  ne'er  had  broke. 

Amid  the  penitential  flock, 

Seemed  none  more  bent  to  pray; 

But  when  the  Holy  Father  spoke 
He  rose  and  went  his  way. 

Again  unto  his  native  land 
His  weary  course  he  drew, 
70 


THE   GREY  BROTHER 

To  Lothian's  fair  and  fertile  strand, 
And  Pentland's  mountains  blue. 

His  unblest  feet  his  native  seat 

Mid  Eske's  fair  woods  regain; 
Through  woods  more  fair  no  stream  more  sweet 

Rolls  to  the  eastern  main. 

And  lords  to  meet  the  pilgrim  came, 

And  vassals  bent  the  knee ; 
For  all  mid  Scotland's  chiefs  of  fame 

Was  none  more  famed  than  he. 

And  boldly  for  his  country  still 

In  battle  he  had  stood, 
Ay,  even  when  on  the  banks  of  Till 

Her  noblest  poured  their  blood. 

Sweet  are  the  paths,  O  passing  sweet! 

By  Eske's  fair  streams  that  run, 
O'er  airy  steep  through  copsewood  deep, 

Impervious  to  the  sun. 

There  the  rapt  poet's  step  may  rove. 

And  yield  the  muse  the  day; 
There  Beauty,  led  by  timid  Love, 

May  shun  the  telltale  ray; 

71 


THE   GREY  BROTHER 

From  that  fair  dome  where  suit  is  paid 

By  blast  of  bugle  free/ 
To  Auchendinny's  hazel  glade  ^ 

And  haunted  Woodhouselee. 

Who  knows  not  Melville's  beechy  grove 

And  Roslin's  rocky  glen, 
Dalkeith,  which  all  the  virtues  love, 

And  classic  Hawthornden?' 

Yet  never  a  path  from  day  to  day 

The  pilgrim's  footsteps  range, 
Save  but  the  solitary  way 

To  Burndale's  ruined  grange. 

A  woful  place  was  that,  I  ween, 

As  sorrow  could  desire; 
For  nodding  to  the  fall  was  each  crumbling  wall, 

And  the  roof  was  scathed  with  fire. 

It  fell  upon  a  summer's  eve. 

While  on  Carnethy's  head 
The  last  faint  gleams  of  the  sun's  low  beams 

Had  streaked  the  grey  with  red, 

And  the  convent  bell  did  vespers  tell 
Newbattle's  oaks  among, 

>  See  Note  12.  '  See  Note  13.  •  See  Note  14. 

72 


THE  GREY   BROTHER 

And  mingled  with  the  solemn  knell 
Our  Ladye's  evening  song; 

The  heavy  knell,  the  choir's  faint  swell, 

Came  slowly  down  the  wind, 
And  on  the  pilgrim's  ear  they  fell, 

As  his  wonted  path  he  did  find. 

Deep  sunk  in  thought,  I  ween,  he  was, 

Nor  ever  raised  his  eye, 
Until  he  came  to  that  dreary  place 

Which  did  all  in  ruins  lie. 

He  gazed  on  the  walls,  so  scathed  with  fire, 

With  many  a  bitter  groan  — 
And  there  was  aware  of  a  Grey  Friar 

Resting  him  on  a  stone. 

'  Now,  Christ  thee  save ! '  said  the  Grey  Brother ; 

'Some  pilgrim  thou  seemest  to  be.' 
But  in  sore  amaze  did  Lord  Albert  gaze, 

Nor  answer  again  made  he. 

*0,  come  ye  from  east  or  come  ye  from  west, 

Or  bring  reliques  from  over  the  sea ; 
Or  come  ye  from  the  shrine  of  Saint  James  the  divine, 

Or  Saint  John  of  Beverley?' 

73 


II 


THE   GREY  BROTHER 

*  I  come  not  from  the  shrine  of  Saint  James  the  divine, 

Nor  bring  reliques  from  over  the  sea; 
I  bring  but  a  curse  from  our  father,  the  Pope, 

Which  forever  will  cling  to  me.' 

'Now,  woful  pilgrim,  say  not  so! 

But  kneel  thee  down  to  me. 
And  shrive  thee  so  clean  of  thy  deadly  sin 

That  absolved  thou  mayst  be.' 

'And  who  art  thou,  thou  Grey  Brother, 

That  I  should  shrive  to  thee. 
When  He  to  whom  are  given  the  keys  of  earth  and 
heaven 

Has  no  power  to  pardon  me?* 


*0,  I  am  sent  from  a  distant  clime,  I 

Five  thousand  miles  away,  ff 

And  all  to  absolve  a  foul,  foul  crime. 
Done  here  'twixt  night  and  day.' 


The  pilgrim  kneeled  him  on  the  sand. 
And  thus  began  his  saye  — 

When  on  his  neck  an  ice-cold  hand 
Did  that  Grey  Brother  laye. 


THE  FIRE-KING  1 

The  blessings  of  the  evil  Genii,  which  are  curses,  were  upon  him.  —  Eastern  Tale. 

Bold  knights  and  fair  dames,  to  my  harp  give  an  ear, 
Of  love  and  of  war  and  of  wonder  to  hear ; 
And  you  haply  may  sigh  in  the  midst  of  your  glee 
At  the  tale  of  Count  Albert  and  fair  Rosalie. 

O,  see  you  that  castle,  so  strong  and  so  high? 
And  see  you  that  lady,  the  tear  in  her  eye? 
And  see  you  that  palmer  from  Palestine's  land, 
The  shell  on  his  hat  and  the  staff  in  his  hand?  — 

'Now,  palmer,  grey  palmer,  O,  tell  unto  me, 
What  news  bring  you  home  from  the  Holy  Countrie? 
And  how  goes  the  warfare  by  Galilee's  strand? 
And  how  fare  our  nobles,  the  flower  of  the  land?' 

'  O,  well  goes  the  warfare  by  Galilee's  wave. 

For  Gilead  and  Nablous  and  Ramah  we  have; 

And  well  fare  our  nobles  by  Mount  Lebanon, 

For  the  heathen  have  lost  and  the  Christians  have  won.' 

A  fair  chain  of  gold  mid  her  ringlets  there  hung; 

O'er  the  palmer's  grey  locks  the  fair  chain  has  she  flung: 

.  >  See  Note  is. 

75 


THE  FIRE-KING 

*0  palmer,  grey  palmer,  this  chain  be  thy  fee 

For  the  news  thou  hast  brought  from  the  Holy  Countrie. 

'And,  palmer,  good  palmer,  by  Galilee's  wave, 

O,  saw  ye  Count  Albert,  the  gentle  and  brave?  I 

When  the  Crescent  went  back  and  the  Red -cross  rushed 

on, 
O,  saw  ye  him  foremost  on  Mount  Lebanon?' 

*0  lady,  fair  lady,  the  tree  green  it  grows; 

O  lady,  fair  lady,  the  stream  pure  it  flows; 

Your  castle  stands  strong  and  your  hopes  soar  on  high, 

But,  lady,  fair  lady,  all  blossoms  to  die. 

'The  green  boughs  they  wither,  the  thunderbolt  falls. 
It  leaves  of  your  castle  but  levin-scorched  walls: 
The  pure  stream  runs  muddy;  the  gay  hope  is  gone; 
Count  Albert  is  prisoner  on  Mount  Lebanon.' 

O,  she 's  ta'en  a  horse  should  be  fleet  at  her  speed ; 
And  she 's  ta'en  a  sword  should  be  sharp  at  her  need ; 
And  she  has  ta'en  shipping  for  Palestine's  land, 
To  ransom  Count  Albert  from  Soldanrie's  hand. 

Small  thought  had  Count  Albert  on  fair  Rosalie, 
Small  thought  on  his  faith  or  his  knighthood  had  he; 
A  heathenish  damsel  his  light  heart  had  won. 
The  Soldan's  fair  daughter  of  Mount  Lebanon. 

76 


THE  FIRE-KING 

'O  Christian,  brave  Christian,  my  love  wouldst  thou  be, 
Three  things  must  thou  do  ere  I  hearken  to  thee: 
Our  laws  and  our  worship  on  thee  shalt  thou  take; 
And  this  thou  shalt  first  do  for  Zulema's  sake.     . 

'And  next,  in  the  cavern  where  burns  evermore 
The  mystical  flame  which  the  Curdmans  adore, 
Alone  and  in  silence  three  nights  shalt  thou  wake; 
And  this  thou  shalt  next  do  for  Zulema's  sake. 

'And  last,  thou  shalt  aid  us  with  counsel  and  hand. 
To  drive  the  Frank  robber  from  Palestine's  land; 
For  my  lord  and  my  love  then  Count  Albert  I  '11  take, 
When  all  this  is  accomplished  for  Zulema's  sake.' 

He  has  thrown  by  his  helmet  and  cross-handled  sword. 
Renouncing  his  knighthood,  denying  his  Lord; 
He  has  ta'en  the  green  caftan,  and  turban  put  on, 
For  the  love  of  the  maiden  of  fair  Lebanon. 

And  in  the  dread  cavern,  deep  deep  under  ground. 
Which  fifty  steel  gates  and  steel  portals  surround, 
He  has  watched  until  daybreak,  but  sight  saw  he  none, 
Save  the  flame  burning  bright  on  its  altar  of  stone. 

Amazed  was  the  Princess,  the  Soldan  amazed, 
Sore  murmured  the  priests  as  on  Albert  they  gazed ; 

77 


THE  FIRE-KING 

They  searched  all  his  garments,  and  under  his  weeds 
They  found  and  took  from  him  his  rosary  beads. 

Again  in  the  cavern,  deep  deep  under  ground, 

He  watched  the  lone  night,  while  the  winds  whistled 

round ; 
Far  ofif  was  their  murmur,  it  came  not  more  nigh, 
The  flame  burned  unmoved  and  naught  else  did  he  spy. 

Loud  murmured  the  priests  and  amazed  was  the  king, 
While  many  dark  spells  of  their  witchcraft  they  sing; 
They  searched  Albert's  body,  and,  lo!  on  his  breast 
Was  the  sign  of  the  Cross  by  his  father  impressed. 

The  priests  they  erase  it  with  care  and  with  pain, 
And  the  recreant  returned  to  the  cavern  again ; 
But  as  he  descended  a  whisper  there  fell: 
It  was  his  good  angel,  who  bade  him  farewell! 

High  bristled  his  hair,  his  heart  fluttered  and  beat, 
And  he  turned  him  five  steps,  half  resolved  to  retreat; 
But  his  heart  it  was  hardened,  his  purpose  was  gone, 
When  he  thought  of  the  maiden  of  fair  Lebanon. 

Scarce  passed  he  the  archway,  the  threshold  scarce  trode 
When  the  winds  from  the  four  points  of  heaven  were 
abroad, 

78 


THE  FIRE-KING 

They  made  each  steel  portal  to  rattle  and  ring, 
And  borne  on  the  blast  came  the  dread  Fire-King. 

Full  sore  rocked  the  cavern  whene'er  he  drew  nigh, 
The  fire  on  the  altar  blazed  bickering  and  high ; 
In  volcanic  explosions  the  mountains  proclaim 
The  dreadful  approach  of  the  Monarch  of  Flame. 

Unmeasured  in  height,  undistinguished  in  form. 
His  breath  it  was  lightning,  his  voice  it  was  storm; 
I  ween  the  stout  heart  of  Count  Albert  was  tame, 
When  he  saw  in  his  terrors  the  Monarch  of  Flame. 

In  his  hand  a  broad  falchion  blue-glimmered  through 

smoke, 
And  Mount  Lebanon  shook  as  the  monarch  he  spoke : 
*  With  this  brand  shalt  thou  conquer,  thus  long  and  no 

more, 
Till  thou  bend  to  the  Cross  and  the  Virgin  adore.' 

The  cloud-shrouded  arm  gives  the  weapon ;  and  see ! 
The  recreant  receives  the  charmed  gift  on  his  knee: 
The  thunders  growl  distant  and  faint  gleam  the  fires, 
As,  borne  on  the  whirlwind,  the  phantom  retires. 

Count  Albert  has  armed  him  the  Paynim  among, 
Though  his  heart  it  was  false,  yet  his  arm  it  was  strong; 

79 


THE  FIRE-KING 

And  the  Red-cross  waxed  faint  and  the  Crescent  came  on, 
From  the  day  he  commanded  on  Mount  Lebanon. 

From  Lebanon's  forests  to  Galilee's  wave, 

The  sands  of  Samaar  drank  the  blood  of  the  brave ; 

Till  the  Knights  of  the  Temple  and  Knights  of  Saint 

John, 
With  Salem's  King  Baldwin,  against  him  came  on. 

The  war-cymbals  clattered,  the  trumpets  replied. 
The  lances  were  couched,  and  they  closed  on  each  side; 
And  horseman  and  horses  Count  Albert  o'erthrew, 
Till  he  pierced  the  thick  tumult  King  Baldwin  unto. 

Against  the  charmed  blade  which  Count  Albert  did 

wield, 
The  fence  had  been  vain  of  the  king's  Red-cross  shield ; 
But  a  page  thrust  him  forward  the  monarch  before, 
And  cleft  the  proud  turban  the  renegade  wore. 

So  fell  was  the  dint  that  Count  Albert  stooped  low 
Before  the  crossed  shield  to  his  steel  saddlebow; 
And  scarce  had  he  bent  to  the  Red-cross  his  head,  — 
*  Bonne  Grace,  Notre  Dame!'  he  unwittingly  said. 

Sore  sighed  the  charmed  sword,  for  its  virtue  was  o'er. 
It  sprung  from  his  grasp  and  was  never  seen  more; 

80 


THE  FIRE-KING 

But   true   men    have    said   that    the    lightning's   red 

wing 
Did  waft  back  the  brand  to  the  dread  Fire-King. 

He  clenched  his  set  teeth  and  his  gauntleted  hand ; 
He  stretched  with  one  buffet  that  page  on  the  strand ; 
As  back  from  the  striphng  the  broken  casque  rolled, 
You  might  see  the  blue  eyes  and  the  ringlets  of  gold. 

Short  time  had  Count  Albert  in  horror  to  stare 

On  those  death-swimming  eyeballs  and  blood-clotted 

hair; 
For  down  came  the  Templars,  like  Cedron  in  flood, 
And  dyed  their  long  lances  in  Saracen  blood. 

The  Saracens,  Curdmans,  and  Ishmaelites  yield 
To  the  scallop,  the  saltier,  and  crossleted  shield ; 
And  the  eagles  were  gorged  with  the  infidel  dead 
From  Bethsaida's  fountains  to  Naphthali's  head. 

The  battle  is  over  on  Bethsaida's  plain.  — 
O,  who  is  yon  Paynim  lies  stretched  mid  the  slain? 
And  who  is  yon  page  lying  cold  at  his  knee?  — 
O,  who  but  Count  Albert  and  fair  Rosalie? 

The  lady  was  buried  in  Salem's  blest  bound, 
The  count  he  was  left  to  the  vulture  and  hound: 
46  8i 


THE  FIRE-KING 

Her  soul  to  high  mercy  Our  Lady  did  bring ; 
His  went  on  the  blast  to  the  dread  Fire-King. 

Yet  many  a  minstrel  in  harping  can  tell 
How  the  Red-cross  it  conquered,  the  Crescent  it  fell; 
And  lords  and  gay  ladies  have  sighed  mid  their  glee 
At  the  tale  of  Count  Albert  and  fair  Rosalie. 


BOTHWELL  CASTLE 

A   FRAGMENT 
1799 

When  fruitful  Clydesdale's  apple-bowers 

Are  mellowing  in  the  noon; 
When  sighs  round  Pembroke's  ruined  towers 

The  sultry  breath  of  June; 

When  Clyde,  despite  his  sheltering  wood, 

Must  leave  his  channel  dry. 
And  vainly  o'er  the  limpid  flood 

The  angler  guides  his  fly ; 

If  chance  by  Bothwell's  lovely  braes 

A  wanderer  thou  hast  been. 
Or  hid  thee  from  the  summer's  blaze 

In  Blantyre's  bowers  of  green, 

Full  where  the  copsewood  opens  wild 

Thy  pilgrim  step  hath  staid, 
Where  Bothwell's  towers  in  ruin  piled 

O'erlook  the  verdant  glade; 

And  many  a  tale  of  love  and  fear 
Hath  mingled  with  the  scene  — 

Of  Bothwell's  banks  that  bloomed  so  dear, 
And  Bothwell's  bonny  Jean. 

83 


BOTHWELL  CASTLE 

O,  if  with  rugged  minstrel  lays 

Unsated  be  thy  ear, 
And  thou  of  deeds  of  other  days 

Another  tale  wilt  hear,  — 

Then  all  beneath  the  spreading  beech, 

Flung  careless  on  the  lea, 
The  Gothic  muse  the  tale  shall  teach 

Of  Bothwell's  sisters  three. 

Wight  Wallace  stood  on  Deckmont  head, 

He  blew  his  bugle  round, 
Till  the  wild  bull  in  Cadyow  wood 

Has  started  at  the  sound. 

Saint  George's  cross,  o'er  Bothwell  hung, 

Was  waving  far  and  wide. 
And  from  the  lofty  turret  flung 

Its  crimson  blaze  on  Clyde; 

And  rising  at  the  bugle  blast 
That  marked  the  Scottish  foe. 

Old  England's  yeomen  mustered  fast, 
And  bent  the  Norman  bow. 

Tall  in  the  midst  Sir  Aylmer  rose, 

Proud  Pembroke's  Earl  was  he  — 
While —  .        •    :•.  •    .    •  J.  •     •  •! 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

A   FRAGMENT 
1799 


And  ne'er  but  once,  my  son,  he  says, 

Was  yon  sad  cavern  trod, 
In  persecution's  iron  days 

When  the  land  was  left  by  God. 

From  Bewlie  bog  with  slaughter  red 

A  wanderer  hither  drew, 
And  oft  he  stopt  and  turned  his  head, 

As  by  fits  the  night  wind  blew; 

For  trampling  round  by  Cheviot  edge 

Were  heard  the  troopers  keen, 
And  frequent  from  the  Whitelaw  ridge 

The  death-shot  flashed  between. 

The  moonbeams  through  the  misty  shower 

On  yon  dark  cavern  fell; 
Through  the  cloudy  night  the  snow  gleamed  white. 

Which  sunbeam  ne'er  could  quell. 

*Yon  cavern  dark  is  rough  and  rude, 
And  cold  its  jaws  of  snow; 
8S 


THE   SHEPHERD'S   TALE 

But  more  rough  and  rude  are  the  men  of  blood 
That  hunt  my  Hfe  below! 

'Yon  spell-bound  den,  as  the  aged  tell, 

Was  hewn  by  demon's  hands; 
But  I  had  lourd  melle  with  the  fiends  of  hell 
Than  with  Clavers  and  his  band.* 

He  heard  the  deep-mouthed  bloodhound  bark, 

He  heard  the  horses  neigh, 
He  plunged  him  in  the  cavern  dark, 

And  downward  sped  his  way. 

Now  faintly  down  the  winding  path 
Came  the  cry  of  the  faulting  hound, 

And  the  muttered  oath  of  balked  wrath 
Was  lost  in  hollow  sound. 

He  threw  him  on  the  flinted  floor. 

And  held  his  breath  for  fear; 
He  rose  and  bitter  cursed  his  foes. 

As  the  sounds  died  on  his  ear. 

*0,  bare  thine  arm,  thou  battling  Lord, 

For  Scotland's  wandering  band ; 
Dash  from  the  oppressor's  grasp  the  sword, 
And  sweep  him  from  the  land ! 
86 


THE   SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

'Forget  not  thou  thy  people's  groans 

From  dark  Dunnotter's  tower, 
Mixed  with  the  sea-fowl's  shrilly  moans 
And  ocean's  bursting  roar! 

*  O,  in  fell  Clavers'  hour  of  pride, 
Even  in  his  mightiest  day, 
As  bold  he  strides  through  conquest's  tide, 
O,  stretch  him  on  the  clay! 

'His  widow  and  his  little  ones, 
O,  may  their  tower  of  trust 
Remove  its  strong  foundation  stones, 
And  crush  them  in  the  dust ! ' 

'Sweet  prayers  to  me,'  a  voice  replied, 

'Thrice  welcome,  guest  of  mine!' 
And  glimmering  on  the  cavern  side 
A  light  was  seen  to  shine. 

An  aged  man  in  amice  brown 
Stood  by  the  wanderer's  side, 

By  powerful  charm  a  dead  man's  arm 
The  torch's  light  supplied. 

From  each  stiff  finger  stretched  upright 
Arose  a  ghastly  flame, 
87 


THE   SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

That  waved  not  in  the  blast  of  night 
Which  through  the  cavern  came. 

O,  deadly  blue  was  that  taper's  hue 

That  flamed  the  cavern  o'er, 
But  more  deadly  blue  was  the  ghastly  hue 

Of  his  eyes  who  the  taper  bore. 

He  laid  on  his  head  a  hand  like  lead, 
As  heavy,  pale,  and  cold  — 

*  Vengeance  be  thine,  thou  guest  of  mine, 

If  thy  heart  be  firm  and  bold. 

*  But  if  faint  thy  heart,  and  caitiflf  fear 

Thy  recreant  sinews  know, 
The  mountain  erne  thy  heart  shall  tear, 
Thy  nerves  the  hooded  crow.' 

The  wanderer  raised  him  undismayed : 

'My  soul,  by  dangers  steeled. 

Is  stubborn  as  my  Border  blade. 

Which  never  knew  to  yield. 

'And  if  thy  power  can  speed  the  hour 

Of  vengeance  on  my  foes, 
Theirs  be  the  fate  from  bridge  and  gate 
To  feed  the  hooded  crows.' 
88 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

The  Brownie  looked  him  in  the  face, 
And  his  colour  fled  with  speed  — 
'I  fear  me,'  quoth  he,  'uneath  it  will  be 
To  match  thy  word  and  deed. 

*  In  ancient  days  when  English  bands 

Sore  ravaged  Scotland  fair, 
The  sword  and  shield  of  Scottish  land 
Was  valiant  Halbert  Kerr. 

*A  warlock  loved  the  warrior  well, 

Sir  Michael  Scott  by  name. 
And  he  sought  for  his  sake  a  spell  to  make. 
Should  the  Southern  foemen  tame. 

'"Look  thou,"  he  said,  "from  Cessford  head 

As  the  July  sun  sinks  low, 
And  when  glimmering  white  on  Cheviot's  height 

Thou  shalt  spy  a  wreath  of  snow. 
The  spell  is  complete  which  shall  bring  to  thy  feet 

The  haughty  Saxon  foe." 

*  For  many  a  year  wrought  the  wizard  here 

In  Cheviot's  bosom  low. 
Till  the  spell  was  complete  and  in  July's  heat 

Appeared  December's  snow; 
But  Cessford 's  Halbert  never  came 

The  wondrous  cause  to  know. 
89 


THE   SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

'For  years  before  in  Bowden  aisle 

The  warrior's  bones  had  Iain, 
And  after  short  while  by  female  guile 

Sir  Michael  Scott  was  slain. 

'But  me  and  my  brethren  in  this  cell 

His  mighty  charms  retain,  — 
And  he  that  can  quell  the  powerful  spell 

Shall  o'er  broad  Scotland  reign.' 

He  led  him  through  an  iron  door 

And  up  a  winding  stair, 
And  in  wild  amaze  did  the  wanderer  gaze 

On  the  sight  which  opened  there. 

Through  the  gloomy  night  flashed  ruddy  light, 

A  thousand  torches  glow; 
The  cave  rose  high,  like  the  vaulted  sky, 

O'er  stalls  in  double  row. 

In  every  stall  of  that  endless  hall 

Stood  a  steed  in  barding  bright; 
At  the  foot  of  each  steed,  all  armed  save  the  head, 

Lay  stretched  a  stalwart  knight. 

In  each  mailed  hand  was  a  naked  brand; 
As  they  lay  on  the  black  bull's  hide, 
90 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

Each  visage  stern  did  upwards  turn 
With  eyeballs  fixed  and  wide. 

A  launcegay  strong,  full  twelve  ells  long, 

By  every  warrior  hung ; 
At  each  pommel  there  for  battle  yare 

A  Jedwood  axe  was  slung. 

The  casque  hung  near  each  cavalier; 

The  plumes  waved  mournfully 
At  every  tread  which  the  wanderer  made 

Through  the  hall  of  gramarye. 

The  ruddy  beam  of  the  torches'  gleam, 

That  glared  the  warriors  on, 
Reflected  light  from  armour  bright, 

In  noontide  splendour  shone. 

And  onward  seen  in  lustre  sheen, 

Still  lengthening  on  the  sight, 
Through  the  boundless  hall  stood  steeds  in  stall, 

And  by  each  lay  a  sable  knight. 

Still  as  the  dead  lay  each  horseman  dread. 

And  moved  nor  limb  nor  tongue; 
Each  steed  stood  stiff  as  an  earthfast  cliff, 

Nor  hoof  nor  bridle  rung.  , 
91 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  TALE  ?, 

No  sounds  through  all  the  spacious  hall 

The  deadly  still  divide, 
Save  where  echoes  aloof  from  the  vaulted  roof 

To  the  wanderer's  step  replied. 


At  length  before  his  wondering  eyes, 

On  an  iron  column  borne, 
Of  antique  shape  and  giant  size 

Appeared  a  sword  and  horn. 

'Now  choose  thee  here,'  quoth  his  leader, 

'Thy  venturous  fortune  try; 
Thy  woe  and  weal,  thy  boot  and  bale. 
In  yon  brand  and  bugle  lie.' 

To  the  fatal  brand  he  mounted  his  hand, 
But  his  soul  did  quiver  and  quail ; 

The  life-blood  did  start  to  his  shuddering  heart. 
And  left  him  wan  and  pale. 

The  brand  he  forsook,  and  the  horn  he  took 

To  'say  a  gentle  sound ; 
But  so  wild  a  blast  from  the  bugle  brast 

That  the  Cheviot  rocked  around. 

From  Forth  to  Tees,  from  seas  to  seas, 
The  awful  bugle  rung; 
92 


* 


I 


i 


THE  SHEPHERD'S  TALE 

On  Carlisle  wall  and  Berwick  withal 
To  arms  the  warders  sprung. 

With  clank  and  clang  the  cavern  rang, 
The  steeds  did  stamp  and  neigh ; 

And  loud  was  the  yell  as  each  warrior  fell 
Sterte  up  with  whoop  and  cry. 

*Woe,  woe,'  they  cried,  'thou  caitiff  coward, 

That  ever  thou  wert  born! 
Why  drew  ye  not  the  knightly  sword 

Before  ye  blew  the  horn?' 

The  morning  on  the  mountain  shone 

And  on  the  bloody  ground, 
Hurled  from  the  cave  with  shivered  bone. 

The  mangled  wretch  was  found. 

And  still  beneath  the  cavern  dread 

Among  the  glidders  grey, 
A  shapeless  stone  with  lichens  spread 

Marks  where  the  wanderer  lay. 


CHEVIOT 

A  FRAGMENT 
1799 

•  •••  •••00 

Go  sit  old  Cheviot's  crest  below, 
And  pensive  mark  the  lingering  snow 

In  all  his  scaurs  abide, 
And  slow  dissolving  from  the  hill 
In  many  a  sightless,  soundless  rill,. 

Feed  sparkling  Bowmont's  tide. 

Fair  shines  the  stream  by  bank  and  lea, 
As  wimpling  to  the  eastern  sea 

She  seeks  Till's  sullen  bed, 
Indenting  deep  the  fatal  plain 
Where  Scotland's  noblest,  brave  in  vain, 

Around  their  monarch  bled. 

And  westward  hills  on  hills  you  see, 
Even  as  old  Ocean's  mightiest  sea 

Heaves  high  her  waves  of  foam, 
Dark  and  snow-ridged  from  Cutsfeld's  wold  1 

To  the  proud  foot  of  Cheviot  rolled,  li 

Earth's  mountain  billows  come. 


94 


FREDERICK  AND  ALICE  ^ 

1801 
Frederick  leaves  the  land  of  France, 

Homeward  hastes  his  steps  to  measure, 
Careless  casts  the  parting  glance 

On  the  scene  of  former  pleasure. 

Joying  in  his  prancing  steed, 

Keen  to  prove  his  untried  blade, 

Hope's  gay  dreams  the  soldier  lead 
Over  mountain,  moor,  and  glade. 

Helpless,  ruined,  left  forlorn, 

Lovely  Alice  wept  alone, 
Mourned  o'er  love's  fond  contract  torn, 

Hope,  and  peace,  and  honour  flown. 

Mark  her  breast's  convulsive  throbs! 

See,  the  tear  of  anguish  flows !  — 
Mingling  soon  with  bursting  sobs, 

Loud  the  laugh  of  frenzy  rose. 

Wild  she  cursed,  and  wild  she  prayed ; 
Seven  long  days  and  nights  are  o'er: 

•  See  Note  16. 

95 


FREDERICK  AND   ALICE 

Death  in  pity  brought  his  aid, 
As  the  village  bell  struck  four. 

Far  from  her,  and  far  from  France, 
Faithless  Frederick  onward  rides; 

Marking  blithe  the  morning's  glance 
Mantling  o'er  the  mountains'  sides. 

Heard  ye  not  the  boding  sound, 
As  the  tongue  of  yonder  tower, 

Slowly  to  the  hills  around 

Told  the  fourth,  the  fated  hour? 

Starts  the  steed  and  snuffs  the  air. 
Yet  no  cause  of  dread  appears ; 

Bristles  high  the  rider's  hair, 
Struck  with  strange  mysterious  fears. 

Desperate,  as  his  terrors  rise. 
In  the  steed  the  spur  he  hides; 

From  himself  in  vain  he  flies; 
Anxious,  restless,  on  he  rides. 

Seven  long  days  and  seven  long  nights. 
Wild  he  wandered,  woe  the  while! 

Ceaseless  care  and  causeless  fright 
Urge  his  footsteps  many  a  mile. 
96 


FREDERICK  AND  ALICE 

Dark  the  seventh  sad  night  descends ; 

Rivers  swell  and  rain-streams  pour, 
While  the  deafening  thunder  lends 

All  the  terrors  of  its  roar. 

Weary,  wet,  and  spent  with  toil, 

Where  his  head  shall  Frederick  hide? 

Where,  but  in  yon  ruined  aisle. 
By  the  lightning's  flash  descried. 

To  the  portal,  dank  and  low. 

Fast  his  steed  the  wanderer  bound : 

Down  a  ruined  staircase  slow, 
Next  his  darkling  way  he  wound. 

Long  drear  vaults  before  him  lie ! 

Glimmering  lights  are  seen  to  glide !  — 
'Blessed  Mary,  hear  my  cry! 

Deign  a  sinner's  steps  to  guide ! ' 

Often  lost  their  quivering  beam, 
Still  the  lights  move  slow  before, 

Till  they  rest  their  ghastly  gleam 
Right  against  an  iron  door. 

Thundering  voices  from  within, 
Mixed  with  peals  of  laughter,  rose; 
46  97 


FREDERICK  AND  ALICE 

As  they  fell,  a  solemn  strain 

Lent  its  wild  and  wondrous  close! 

Midst  the  din  he  seemed  to  hear 

Voice  of  friends,  by  death  removed; - 

Well,  he  knew  that  solemn  air, 
'T  was  the  lay  that  Alice  loved.  — 

Hark!  for  now  a  solemn  knell 

Four  times  on  the  still  night  broke; 

Four  times  at  its  deaden'd  swell, 
Echoes  from  the  ruins  spoke. 

As  the  lengthened  clangors  die, 

Slowly  opes  the  iron  door! 
Straight  a  banquet  met  his  eye. 

But  a  funeral's  form  it  wore! 

Coffins  for  the  seats  extend ; 

All  with  black  the  board  was  spread ; 
Girt  by  parent,  brother,  friend. 

Long  since  number'd  with  the  dead! 

Alice,  in  her  grave-clothes  bound, 
Ghastly  smiling,  points  a  seat; 

All  arose  with  thundering  sound; 
All  the  expected  stranger  greet. 
98 


FREDERICK  AND  ALICE 

High  their  meagre  arms  they  wave, 

Wild  their  notes  of  welcome  swell ;  — 
'Welcome,  traitor,  to  the  grave! 
Perjured,  bid  the  light  farewell!' 


CADYOW  CASTLE  1 

ADDRESSED  TO  THE  RIGHT  HONOURABLE  LADY  ANNE 
HAMILTON 

1801 

When  princely  Hamilton's  abode 

Ennobled  Cadyow's  Gothic  towers,  " 
The  song  went  round,  the  goblet  flowed, 
And  revel  sped  the  laughing  hours. 

Then,  thrilling  to  the  harp's  gay  sound, 
So  sweetly  rung  each  vaulted  wall. 

And  echoed  light  the  dancer's  bound. 
As  mirth  and  music  cheered  the  hall. 

But  Cadyow's  towers  in  ruins  laid, 
And  vaults  by  ivy  mantled  o'er, 

Thrill  to  the  music  of  the  shade, 
Or  echo  Evan's  hoarser  roar. 

Yet  still  of  Cadyow's  faded  fame 
You  bid  me  tell  a  minstrel  tale, 

And  tune  my  harp  of  Border  frame 
On  the  wild  banks  of  Evandale. 

>  See  Note  17. 
IOC 


» 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

For  thou,  from  scenes  of  courtly  pride, 
From  pleasure's  lighter  scenes,  canst  turn, 

To  draw  oblivion's  pall  aside 

And  mark  the  long-forgotten  urn. 

Then,  noble  maid !  at  thy  command 
Again  the  crumbled  halls  shall  rise; 

Lo!  as  on  Evan's  banks  we  stand, 
The  past  returns  —  the  present  flies. 

Where  with  the  rock's  wood-covered  side 
Were  blended  late  the  ruins  green, 

Rise  turrets  in  fantastic  pride 
And  feudal  banners  flaunt  between : 

Where  the  rude  torrent's  brawling  course 
Was  shagged  with  thorn  and  tangling  sloe. 

The  ashler  buttress  braves  its  force 
And  ramparts  frown  in  battled  row. 

'T  is  night  —  the  shade  of  keep  and  spire 
Obscurely  dance  on  Evan's  stream ; 

And  on  the  wave  the  warder's  fire 
Is  checkering  the  moonlight  beam. 

Fades  slow  their  light;  the  east  is  grey; 
The  weary  warder  leaves  his  tower; 

lOI 


^hi.  --^'sm  Lay 


CADYOW   CASTLE 

Steeds  snort,  uncoupled  stag-hounds  bay, 
And  merry  hunters  quit  the  bower. 

The  drawbridge  falls  —  they  hurry  out  — 

Clatters  each  plank  and  swinging  chain, 
As,  dashing  o'er,  the  jovial  rout 

Urge  the  shy  steed  and  slack  the  rein. 

First  of  his  troop,  the  chief  rode  on ;  ^ 

His  shouting  merry-men  throng  behind ; 
The  steed  of  princely  Hamilton 

Was  fleeter  than  the  mountain  wind. 

From  the  thick  copse  the  roebucks  bound, 

The  startled  red-deer  scuds  the  plain, 
For  the  hoarse  bugle's  warrior-sound 

Has  roused  their  mountain  haunts  again.  :^ 

I 

Through  the  huge  oaks  of  Evandale,  " 

Whose  limbs  a  thousand  years  have  worn, 

What  sullen  roar  comes  down  the  gale 
And  drowns  the  hunter's  pealing  horn? 

Mightiest  of  all  the  beasts  of  chase 

That  roam  in  woody  Caledon, 
Crashing  the  forest  in  his  race, 

The  Mountain  Bull  comes  thundering  on. 

«  See  Note  i8. 

I02  ,^^ 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

Fierce  on  the  hunter's  quivered  band 
He  rolls  his  eyes  of  swarthy  glow, 

Spurns  with  black  hoof  and  horn  the  sand, 
And  tosses  high  his  mane  of  snow. 

Aimed  well  the  chieftain's  lance  has  flown; 

Struggling  in  blood  the  savage  lies; 
His  roar  is  sunk  in  hollow  groan  — 

Sound,  merry  huntsmen!  sound  the  pryse! 

'T  is  noon  —  against  the  knotted  oak 
The  hunters  rest  the  idle  spear ; 

Curls  through  the  trees  the  slender  smoke, 
Where  yeomen  dight  the  woodland  cheer. 

• 

Proudly  the  chieftain  marked  his  clan, 
On  greenwood  lap  all  careless  thrown, 

Yet  missed  his  eye  the  boldest  man 
That  bore  the  name  of  Hamilton. 

'Why  fills  not  Bothwellhaugh  his  place, 
Still  wont  our  weal  and  woe  to  share? 
Why  comes  he  not  our  sport  to  grace? 
Why  shares  he  not  our  hunter's  fare?* 

Stern  Claud  ^  replied  with  darkening  face  — 
Grey  Paisley's  haughty  lord  was  he  — 

«  See  Note  19. 
103 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

'At  merry  feast  or  buxom  chase 

No  more  the  warrior  wilt  thou  see. 

'Few  suns  have  set  since  Woodhouselee * 

Saw  Bothwellhaugh's  bright  goblets  foam, 
When  to  his  hearths  in  social  glee 

The  war-worn  soldier  turned  him  home. 

'There,  wan  from  her  maternal  throes, 

His  Margaret,  beautiful  and  mild. 
Sate  in  her  bower,  a  pallid  rose, 

And  peaceful  nursed  her  new-born  child. 

*  O  change  accursed !  past  are  those  days ; 

False  Murray's  ruthless  spoilers  came, 
And,  for  the  hearth's  domestic  blaze, 

Ascends  destruction's  volumed  flame. 

'What  sheeted  phantom  wanders  wild 

Where  mountain  Eske  through  woodland  flows. 
Her  arms  enfold  a  shadowy  child  — 
O!  is  it  she,  the  pallid  rose? 

'The  wildered  traveller  sees  her  glide, 
And  hears  her  feeble  voice  with  awe  — 
"Revenge,"  she  cries,  "on  Murray's  pride! 
And  woe  for  injured  Bothwellhaugh ! " ' 

*  See  Note  20. 
104 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

He  ceased  —  and  cries  of  rage  and  grief 
Burst  mingling  from  the  kindred  band, 

And  half  arose  the  kindling  chief, 

And  half  unsheathed  his  Arran  brand. 

But  who  o'er  bush,  o'er  stream  and  rock, 
Rides  headlong  with  resistless  speed, 

Whose  bloody  poniard's  frantic  stroke 
Drives  to  the  leap  his  jaded  steed  ;^ 

Whose  cheek  is  pale,  whose  eyeballs  glare. 
As  one  some  visioned  sight  that  saw, 

Whose  hands  are  bloody,  loose  his  hair?  — 
'T  is  he!  't  is  he!  't  is  Bothwellhaugh. 

From  gory  selle  and  reeling  steed 

Sprung  the  fierce  horseman  with  a  bound, 

And,  reeking  from  the  recent  deed, 
He  dashed  his  carbine  on  the  ground. 

Sternly  he  spoke  —  "T  is  sweet  to  hear 
In  good  greenwood  the  bugle  blown, 

But  sweeter  to  Revenge's  ear 
To  drink  a  tyrant's  dying  groan. 

'Your  slaughtered  quarry  proudly  trode 
At  dawning  morn  o'er  dale  and  down, 

«  See  Note  21. 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

But  prouder  base-born  Murray  rode 

Through  old  Linlithgow's  crowded  town. 

'From  the  wild  Border's  humbled  side,^ 

In  haughty  triumph  marched  he, 
While  Knox  relaxed  his  bigot  pride 
And  smiled  the  traitorous  pomp  to  see. 

'But  can  stern  Power,  with  all  his  vaunt, 

Or  Pomp,  with  all  her  courtly  glare, 
The  settled  heart  of  Vengeance  daunt, 
Or  change  the  purpose  of  Despair? 

*With  hackbut  bent,^  my  secret  stand, 
Dark  as  the  purposed  deed,  I  chose. 
And  marked  where  mingling  in  his  band 
Trooped  Scottish  pipes  and  English  bows. 

'Dark  Morton,^  girt  with  many  a  spear. 

Murder's  foul  minion,  led  the  van; 
And  clashed  their  broadswords  in  the  rear 
The  wild  Macfarlanes'  plaided  clan.^ 

'Glencairn  and  stout  Parkhead  were  nigh,^ 
Obsequious  at  their  Regent's  rein, 
And  haggard  Lindesay's  iron  eye,^ 
That  saw  fair  Mary  weep  in  vain. 

»  See  Note  22.  *  See  Note  23.  '  See  Note  24. 

♦  See  Note  25.  *  See  Note  26.  '  See  Note  27. 

106 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

*Mid  pennoned  spears,  a  steely  grove, 

Proud  Murray's  plumage  floated  high; 
Scarce  could  his  trampling  charger  move, 
So  close  the  minions  crowded  nigh.^ 

*  From  the  raised  vizor's  shade  his  eye. 

Dark-rolling,  glanced  the  ranks  along, 
And  his  steel  truncheon,  waved  on  high, 
Seemed  marshalling  the  iron  throng, 

*But  yet  his  saddened  brow  confessed 
A  passing  shade  of  doubt  and  awe ; 
Some  fiend  was  whispering  in  his  breast, 
"Beware  of  injured  Bothwellhaugh ! " 

*The  death-shot  parts!  the  charger  springs; 
Wild  rises  tumult's  startling  roar ! 
And  Murray's  plumy  helmet  rings  — 
Rings  on  the  ground  to  rise  no  more. 

'What  joy  the  raptured  youth  can  feel. 
To  hear  her  love  the  loved  one  tell  — 
Or  he  who  broaches  on  his  steel 
The  wolf  by  whom  his  infant  fell ! 

*But  dearer  to  my  injured  eye 

To  see  in  dust  proud  Murray  roll; 

«  See  Note  28. 
107 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

And  mine  was  ten  times  trebled  joy 
To  hear  him  groan  his  felon  soul. 

*My  Margaret's  spectre  glided  near, 

With  pride  her  bleeding  victim  saw, 

And  shrieked  in  his  death-deafened  ear, 

"Remember  injured  Bothwellhaugh ! " 

'Then  speed  thee,  noble  Chatlerault! 

Spread  to  the  wind  thy  bannered  tree!  * 
Each  warrior  bend  his  Clydesdale  bow !  — 
Murray  is  fallen  and  Scotland  free.'' 

Vaults  every  warrior  to  his  steed ; 

Loud  bugles  join  their  wild  acclaim  — 
'Murray  is  fallen  and  Scotland  freed! 

Couch,  Arran,  couch  thy  spear  of  flame!' 

But  see !  the  minstrel  vision  fails  — 
The  glimmering  spears  are  seen  no  more; 

The  shouts  of  war  die  on  the  gales, 
Or  sink  in  Evan's  lonely  roar. 

For  the  loud  bugle  pealing  high. 

The  blackbird  whistles  down  the  vale, 

And  sunk  in  ivied  ruins  lie 

The  bannered  towers  of  Evandale. 

«  See  Note  29. 
108 


CADYOW  CASTLE 

For  chiefs  intent  on  bloody  deed, 

And  Vengeance  shouting  o'er  the  slain, 

Lo!  high-born  Beauty  rules  the  steed, 
Or  graceful  guides  the  silken  rein. 

And  long  may  Peace  and  Pleasure  own 
The  maids  who  list  the  minstrel's  tale; 

Nor  e'er  a  ruder  guest  be  known 
On  the  fair  banks  of  Evandale! 


THE  REIVER'S  WEDDING 

A   FRAGMENT 

1802 

O,  WILL  ye  hear  a  mirthful  bourd? 

Or  will  ye  hear  of  courtesie? 
Or  will  ye  hear  how  a  gallant  lord 

Was  wedded  to  a  gay  ladye? 

*Ca'  out  the  kye,'  quo'  the  village  herd, 

As  he  stood  on  the  knowe, 
*Ca*  this  ane's  nine  and  that  ane's  ten, 

And  bauld  Lord  William's  cow.' 

*Ah!  by  my  sooth,'  quoth  William  then, 

'And  stands  it  that  way  now, 
When  knave  and  churl  have  nine  and  ten, 
That  the  lord  has  but  his  cow? 

*I  swear  by  the  light  of  the  Michaelmas  moon, 

And  the  might  of  Mary  high. 
And  by  the  edge  of  my  braidsword  brown. 

They  shall  soon  say  Harden 's  kye.* 

He  took  a  bugle  frae  his  side, 

With  names  carved  o'er  and  o'er  — 
no 


THE  REIVER'S  WEDDING 

Full  many  a  chief  of  meikle  pride 
That  Border  bugle  bore  — 

He  blew  a  note  baith  sharp  and  hie 
Till  rock  and  water  ran  around  — 

Threescore  of  moss-troopers  and  three 
Have  mounted  at  that  bugle  sound. 

The  Michaelmas  moon  had  entered  then, 

And  ere  she  wan  the  full 
Ye  might  see  by  her  light  in  Harden  glen 

A  bow  o'  kye  and  a  bassened  bull. 

And  loud  and  loud  in  Harden  tower 
The  quaigh  gaed  round  wi'  meikle  glee; 

For  the  English  beef  was  brought  in  bower 
And  the  English  ale  flowed  merrilie. 

And  mony  a  guest  from  Teviotside 

And  Yarrow's  braes  was  there; 
Was  never  a  lord  in  Scotland  wide 

That  made  more  dainty  fare. 

They  ate,  they  laughed,  they  sang  and  quafTed, 

Till  naught  on  board  was  seen, 
When  knight  and  squire  were  boune  to  dine, 

But  a  spur  of  silver  sheen. 
Ill 


THE  REIVER'S  WEDDING 

Lord  William  has  ta'en  his  berry-brown  steed 

A  sore  shent  man  was  he; 
'Wait  ye,  my  guests,  a  little  speed  — 
Weel  feasted  ye  shall  be.' 

He  rode  him  down  by  Falsehope  burn, 

His  cousin  dear  to  see, 
With  him  to  take  a  riding  turn  — 

Wat-draw-the-Sword  was  he. 

And  when  he  came  to  Falsehope  glen. 

Beneath  the  trysting-tree,^ 
On  the  smooth  green  was  carved  plain, 
*To  Lochwood  bound  are  we.' 

*0,  if  they  be  gane  to  dark  Lochwood 

To  drive  the  Warden's  gear. 
Betwixt  our  names,  I  ween,  there's  feud; 

I  '11  go  and  have  my  share : 

*For  little  reck  I  for  Johnstone's  feud, 

The  Warden  though  he  be.' 
So  Lord  William  is  away  to  dark  Lochwood 

With  riders  barely  three. 

The  Warden's  daughters  in  Lochwood  sate. 
Were  all  both  fair  and  gay, 

»  See  Note  30. 
112 


THE  REIVER'S  WEDDING 

All  save  the  Lady  Margaret, 
And  she  was  wan  and  wae. 

The  sister  Jean  had  a  full  fair  skin, 
And  Grace  was  bauld  and  braw; 

But  the  leal-fast  heart  her  breast  within 
It  weel  was  worth  them  a'. 

Her  father's  pranked  her  sisters  twa 

With  meikle  joy  and  pride; 
But  Margaret  maun  seek  Dundrennan's  wa' 

She  ne'er  can  be  a  bride. 

On  spear  and  casque  by  gallants  gent 

Her  sisters'  scarfs  were  borne, 
But  never  at  tilt  or  tournament 

Were  Margaret's  colors  worn. 

Her  sisters  rode  to  Thirlstane  bower. 

But  she  was  left  at  hame 
To  wander  round  the  gloomy  tower. 

And  sigh  young  Harden's  name. 

*0f  all  the  knights,  the  knight  most  fair 

From  Yarrow  to  the  Tyne,' 
Soft  sighed  the  maid,  'is  Harden's  heir, 
But  ne'er  can  he  be  mine; 
46  113 


THE  REIVER'S  WEDDING 

'Of  all  the  maids,  the  foulest  maid 

From  Teviot  to  the  Dee, 
Ah!'  sighing  sad,  that  lady  said, 
'Can  ne'er  young  Harden's  be.' 

She  looked  up  the  briery  glen, 

And  up  the  mossy  brae, 
And  she  saw  a  score  of  her  father's  men 

Yclad  in  the  Johnstone  grey. 

O,  fast  and  fast  they  downwards  sped 
The  moss  and  briers  among. 

And  in  the  midst  the  troopers  led 
A  shackled  knight  along. 


CHRISTIE'S  WILL» 

1802 
Traquair  has  ridden  up  Chapelhope, 

And  sae  has  he  down  by  the  Grey  Mare's  Tail;' 
He  never  stinted  the  Hght  gallop, 

Until  he  speered  for  Christie's  Will. 

Now  Christie's  Will  peeped  frae  the  tower, 

And  out  at  the  shot-hole  keeked  he ; 
'And  ever  unlucky,'  quo'  he,  'is  the  hour, 
That  the  Warden  comes  to  speer  for  me ! ' 

'Good  Christie's  Will,  now,  have  nae  fear! 
Nae  harm,  good  Will,  shall  hap  to  thee: 
I  saved  thy  life  at  the  Jeddart  air, 
At  the  Jeddart  air  frae  the  justice  tree. 

'Bethink  how  ye  sware,  by  the  salt  and  the  bread,' 

By  the  lightning,  the  wind,  and  the  rain, 
That  if  ever  of  Christie's  Will  I  had  need, 
He  would  pay  me  my  service  again.' 

'Gramercy,  my  lord,'  quo'  Christie's  Will, 
'Gramercy,  my  lord,  for  your  grace  to  me! 

«  See  Note  31.  '  A  cataract  above  Moffat. 

•  '  He  took  bread  and  salt,  by  this  light,  that  he  would    never  open  his 
lips.'  —  The  Honest  Whore,  Act  v.  Scene  2. 

"5 


CHRISTIE'S  WILL 

When  I  turn  my  cheek,  and  claw  my  neck, 
I  think  of  Traquair  and  the  Jeddart  tree.' 

And  he  has  opened  the  fair  tower  yate, 

To  Traquair  and  a'  his  companie; 
The  spule  o'  the  deer  on  the  board  he  has  set, 

The  fattest  that  ran  on  the  Hutton  Lee. 

'Now,  wherefore  sit  ye  sad,  my  lord? 
And  wherefore  sit  ye  mournfuUie? 
And  why  eat  ye  not  of  the  venison  I  shot, 
At  the  dead  of  night  on  Hutton  Lee?' 

*  O  weel  may  I  stint  of  feast  and  sport, 

And  in  my  mind  be  vexed  sair! 
A  vote  of  the  canker'd  Session  Court, 
Of  land  and  living  will  make  me  bare. 

*But  if  auld  Durie  to  heaven  were  flown, 
Or  if  auld  Durie  to  hell  were  gane, 

Or  ...  if  he  could  be  but  ten  days  stoun  .  .  . 
My  bonny  braid  lands  would  still  be  my  ain.' 

*0,  mony  a  time,  my  lord,'  he  said, 

'  I ' ve  stown  the  horse  f rae  the  sleeping  loon ; 
But  for  you  I  '11  steal  a  beast  as  braid. 

For  I  '11  steal  Lord  Durie  frae  Edinburgh  toun. 
ii6 


CHRISTIE'S  WILL 

*0,  mony  a  time,  my  lord,'  he  said, 

'  I  've  stown  a  kiss  f rae  a  sleeping  wench ; 
But  for  you  I  '11  do  as  kittle  a  deed, 

For  I  '11  steal  an  auld  lurdane  aff  the  bench.' 

And  Christie's  Will  is  to  Edinburgh  gane; 

At  the  Borough  Muir  then  entered  he; 
And  as  he  passed  the  gallow-stane, 

He  crossed  his  brow  and  he  bent  his  knee. 

He  lighted  at  Lord  Durie's  door. 
And  there  he  knocked  most  manfuUie; 

And  up  and  spake  Lord  Durie  sae  stour, 

'What  tidings,  thou  stalward  groom,  to  me?* 

'The  fairest  lady  in  Teviotdale 

Has  sent,  maist  reverent  sir,  for  thee; 

She  pleas  at  the  Session  for  her  land,  a'  haill, 
And  fain  she  wad  plead  her  cause  to  thee.' 

'But  how  can  I  to  that  lady  ride, 

With  saving  of  my  dignitie?' 
'O  a  curch  and  mantle  ye  may  wear. 

And  in  my  cloak  ye  sail  mufHed  be.' 

Wi'  curch  on  head,  and  cloak  ower  face. 
He  mounted  the  judge  on  a  palfrey  fyne; 
117 


CHRISTIE'S   WILL 

He  rode  away,  a  right  round  pace, 

And  Christie's  Will  held  the  bridle  reyn. 

The  Lothian  Edge  they  were  not  o'er, 

When  they  heard  bugles  bauldly  ring. 
And,  hunting  over  Middleton  Moor,^ 

They  met,  I  ween,  our  noble  King. 

When  Willie  looked  upon  our  King, 

I  wot  a  frighted  man  was  he! 
But  ever  auld  Durie  was  startled  mair, 

For  tyning  of  his  dignitie. 

The  King  he  crossed  himself,  iwis,  ;''. 

When  as  the  pair  came  riding  bye  —  ^ 

i 
*An  uglier  crone,  and  a  sturdier  loon,  \ 

I  think,  were  never  seen  with  eye ! ' 

Willie  has  hied  to  the  tower  of  Graeme, 

He  took  auld  Durie  on  his  back. 
He  shot  him  down  to  the  dungeon  deep. 

Which  garred  his  auld  banes  gie  mony  a  crack. 

For  nineteen  days,  and  nineteen  nights, 

Of  sun,  or  moon,  or  midnight  stern, 
Auld  Durie  never  saw  a  blink. 

The  lodging  was  sae  dark  and  dern. 

•  Middleton  Moor  13  about  fifteen  miles  from  Edinburgh  on  the  way  to  the 
Border, 

118 


CHRISTIE'S  WILL 

He  thought  the  warlocks  o'  the  rosy  cross, ^ 
Had  fanged  him  in  their  nets  sae  fast; 

Or  that  the  gipsies'  glamoured  gang  ^ 
Had  laired  his  learning  at  the  last. 

'Hey!  Batty,  lad!  far  yaud!  far  yaud!' 

These  were  the  morning  sounds  heard  he; 

And  ever  'Alack!'  auld  Durie  cried, 

'The  de'il  is  hounding  his  tykes  on  me!'  — 

And  whiles  a  voice  on  Baudrons  cried, 

With  sound  uncouth,  and  sharp,  and  hie; 
'I  have  tar-barrelled  mony  a  witch, ^ 

But  now,  I  think,  they'll  clear  scores  wi'  me!' 

The  King  has  caused  a  bill  be  wrote, 

And  he  has  set  it  on  the  Tron,  — 
'He  that  will  bring  Lord  Durie  back, 

Shall  have  five  hundred  merks  and  one.* 

Traquair  has  written  a  privie  letter, 
And  he  has  sealed  it  wi'  his  seal,  — 

*Ye  may  let  the  auld  brock  out  o'  the  poke; 
The  land's  my  ain,  and  a's  gane  weel.* 

O  Will  has  mounted  his  bonny  black, 
And  to  the  tower  of  Graeme  did  trudge, 

»  See  Note  32.  '  See  Note  33.  »  See  Note  34. 

119 


CHRISTIE'S  WILL 

And  once  again,  on  his  sturdy  back, 
Has  he  hente  up  the  weary  judge. 


He  brought  him  to  the  council  stairs, 

And  there  full  loudly  shouted  he, 
*Gie  me  my  guerdon,  my  sovereign  liege, 
And  take  ye  back  your  auld  Durie!' 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER* 

PART  FIRST 
ANCIENT 

True  Thomas  lay  on  Huntlie  bank; 

A  ferlie  he  spied  wi'  his  ee; 
And  there  he  saw  a  ladye  bright, 

Come  riding  down  by  the  Eildon  Tree. 

Her  shirt  was  o'  the  grass-green  silk, 
Her  mantle  o'  the  velvet  fyne; 

At  ilka  tett  of  her  horse's  mane, 
Hung  fifty  siller  bells  and  nine. 

True  Thomas,  he  pulled  afT  his  cap, 
And  louted  low  down  to  his  knee, 

'All  hail,  thou  mighty  Queen  of  Heaven! 
For  thy  peer  on  earth  I  never  did  see.' 

'O  no,  O  no,  Thomas,'  she  said, 

'That  name  does  not  belang  to  me; 
I  am  but  the  queen  of  fair  Elfland, 
That  am  hither  come  to  visit  thee. 

>  See  Note  3S. 
121 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

'Harp  and  carp,  Thomas,'  she  said; 

'  Harp  and  carp  along  wi'  me ; 
And  if  ye  dare  to  kiss  my  lips. 
Sure  of  your  bodie  I  will  be.* 

'Betide  me  weal,  betide  me  woe, 

That  weird  shall  never  daunton  me.' 
Syne  he  has  kissed  her  rosy  lips. 
All  underneath  the  Eildon  Tree.  ^ 

'Now,  ye  maun  go  wi'  me,'  she  said; 

'True  Thomas,  ye  maun  go  wi'  me;  "| 

And  ye  maun  serve  me  seven  years,  ^ 

Thro'  weal  or  woe  as  may  chance  to  be.* 

She  mounted  on  her  milk-white  steed ; 

She 's  ta'en  true  Thomas  up  behind : 
And  aye,  whene'er  her  bridle  rung. 

The  steed  flew  swifter  than  the  wind. 

O  they  rade  on,  and  farther  on; 

The  steed  gaed  swifter  than  the  wind ; 
Until  they  reached  a  desert  wide. 

And  living  land  was  left  behind. 

'Light  down,  light  down,  now,  true  Thomas, 
And  lean  your  head  upon  my  knee; 

122 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

Abide  and  rest  a  little  space, 

And  I  will  shew  you  ferlies  three. 

'O  see  ye  not  yon  narrow  road, 

So  thick  beset  with  thorns  and  briers? 
That  is  the  path  of  righteousness. 
Though  after  it  but  few  enquires. 

'And  see  ye  not  that  braid  braid  road, 

That  lies  across  that  lily  leven? 
That  is  the  path  of  wickedness, 

Though  some  call  it  the  road  to  heaven. 

'And  see  not  ye  that  bonny  road, 

That  winds  about  the  fernie  brae? 
That  is  the  road  to  fair  Elfland, 

Where  thou  and  I  this  night  maun  gae. 

'But,  Thomas,  ye  maun  hold  your  tongue, 

Whatever  ye  may  hear  or  see; 
For,  if  you  speak  word  in  Elflyn  land. 
Ye  '11  ne'er  get  back  to  your  ain  countrie.' 

O  they  rade  on,  and  farther  on, 

And  they  waded  through  rivers  aboon  the  knee, 
And  they  saw  neither  sun  nor  moon, 

But  they  heard  the  roaring  of  the  sea. 
123 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

It  was  mirk  mirk  night,  and  there  was  nae  stern  light, 
And  they  waded  through  red  blude  to  the  knee; 

For  a'  the  blude  that 's  shed  on  earth 

Rins  through  the  springs  o'  that  countrie. 

Syne  they  came  on  to  a  garden  green, 

And  she  pu'd  an  apple  frae  a  tree  —  * 
'Take  this  for  thy  wages,  true  Thomas; 

It  will  give  thee  the  tongue  that  can  never  lie.* 

'My  tongue  is  mine  ain,'  true  Thomas  said; 

'A  gudely  gift  ye  wad  gie  to  me! 
I  neither  dought  to  buy  nor  sell, 
At  fair  or  tryst  where  I  may  be. 

*  I  dought  neither  speak  to  prince  or  peer, 

Nor  ask  of  grace  from  fair  ladye.' 

*  Now  hold  thy  peace ! '  the  lady  said, 

'For  as  I  say,  so  must  it  be.' 

He  has  gotten  a  coat  of  the  even  cloth, 

And  a  pair  of  shoes  of  velvet  green ; 
And  till  seven  years  were  gane  and  past. 

True  Thomas  on  earth  was  never  seen. 

>  See  Note  36. 


124 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

PART  SECOND 
ALTERED   FROM   ANCIENT   PROPHECIES 

When  seven  years  were  come  and  gane, 
The  sun  blinked  fair  on  pool  and  stream ; 

And  Thomas  lay  on  Huntlie  bank, 
Like  one  awakened  from  a  dream. 

He  heard  the  trampling  of  a  steed, 
He  saw  the  flash  of  armour  flee. 

And  he  beheld  a  gallant  knight 

Come  riding  down  by  the  Eildon-Tree. 

He  was  a  stalwart  knight,  and  strong; 

Of  giant  make  he  'peared  to  be : 
He  stirred  his  horse,  as  he  were  wode, 

Wi'  gilded  spurs,  of  faushion  free. 

Says  —  *  Well  met,  well  met,  true  Thomas ! 

Some  uncouth  ferlies  show  to  me.' 
Says  —  'Christ  thee  save,  Corspatrick  brave! 

Thrice  welcume,  good  Dunbar,  to  me ! 

'Light  down,  light  down,  Corspatrick  brave! 

And  I  will  show  thee  curses  three, 
Shall  gar  fair  Scotland  greet  and  grane. 
And  change  the  green  to  the  black  livery. 
125 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

*A  storm  shall  roar  this  very  hour, 
From  Ross's  Hills  to  Solway  sea.' 

*Ye  lied,  ye  lied,  ye  warlock  hoar! 

For  the  sun  shines  sweet  on  fauld  and  lea.' 

He  put  his  hand  on  the  Earlie's  head ; 

He  showed  him  a  rock  beside  the  sea, 
Where  a  king  lay  stiff  beneath  his  steed,  ^ 

And  steel-dight  nobles  wiped  their  ee. 

'The  neist  curse  lights  on  Branxton  hills: 
By  Flodden's  high  and  heathery  side, 
Shall  wave  a  banner  red  as  blude. 

And  chieftains  throng  wi'  meikle  pride. 

*A  Scottish  King  shall  come  full  keen, 

The  ruddy  lion  beareth  he; 
A  feathered  arrow  sharp,  I  ween, 

Shall  make  him  wink  and  warre  to  see. 

'When  he  is  bloody,  and  all  to  bledde, 
Thus  to  his  men  he  still  shall  say  — 

"For  God's  sake,  turn  ye  back  again. 
And  give  yon  southern  folk  a  fray! 
Why  should  I  lose  the  right  is  mine? 
My  doom  is  not  to  die  this  day."  ^ 

•  King  Alexander,  killed  by  a  fall  from  his  horse,  near  Kinghom. 

•  See  Note  37- 

126 


;)*• 
^ 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

'Yet  turn  ye  to  the  eastern  hand, 

And  woe  and  wonder  ye  sail  see; 
How  forty  thousand  spearmen  stand, 
Where  yon  rank  river  meets  the  sea. 

'There  shall  the  Hon  lose  the  gylte, 

And  the  libbards  bear  it  clean  away; 
At  Pinkyn  Cleuch  there  shall  be  spilt 
Much  gentil  bluid  that  day.' 

'Enough,  enough,  of  curse  and  ban; 

Some  blessings  show  thou  now  to  me. 
Or,  by  the  faith  o'  my  bodie,'  Corspatrick  said, 
*  Ye  shall  rue  the  day  ye  e'er  saw  me ! ' 

The  first  of  blessings  I  shall  thee  show. 
Is  by  a  burn,  that's  called  of  bread; ' 

Where  Saxon  men  shall  tine  the  bow. 
And  find  their  arrows  lack  the  head. 

'Beside  that  brigg,  out  ower  that  burn. 

Where  the  water  bickereth  bright  and  sheen 

Shall  many  a  falling  courser  spurn. 
And  knights  shall  die  in  battle  keen. 

'Beside  a  headless  cross  of  stone. 

The  libbards  there  shall  lose  the  gree; 

8  See  Note  38. 
127 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

The  raven  shall  come,  the  erne  shall  go, 
And  drink  the  Saxon  bluid  sae  free. 

The  cross  of  stone  they  shall  not  know, 
So  thick  the  crosses  there  shall  be.' 

'But  tell  me  now,'  said  brave  Dunbar, 

'True  Thomas,  tell  now  unto  me, 
What  man  shall  rule  the  isle  Britain, 

Even  from  the  north  to  the  southern  sea?' 

*A  French  Queen  shall  bear  the  son, 
Shall  rule  all  Britain  to  the  sea ; 

He  of  the  Bruce's  blood  shall  come, 
As  near  as  in  the  ninth  degree. 

'The  waters  worship  shall  his  race; 

Likewise  the  waves  of  the  farthest  sea; 
For  they  shall  ride  over  ocean  wide. 

With  hempen  bridles,  and  horse  of  tree.* 

PART  THIRD 
MODERN 

When  seven  years  more  were  come  and  gone, 
Was  war  through  Scotland  spread, 

And  Ruberslaw  showed  high  Dunyon  ^ 
His  beacon  blazing  red. 

*  Ruberslaw  and  Dunyon  are  two  hills  near  Jedburgh. 
128 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

Then  all  by  bonny  Coldingknow/ 
Pitched  palliouns  took  their  room, 

And  crested  helms,  and  spears  a-rowe, 
Glanced  gaily  through  the  broom. 

The  Leader,  rolling  to  the  Tweed, 

Resounds  the  ensenzie; 
They  roused  the  deer  from  Caddenhead, 

To  distant  Torwoodlee.^ 

The  feast  was  spread  in  Ercildoune, 
In  Learmont's  high  and  ancient  hall: 

And  there  were  knights  of  great  renown, 
And  ladies,  laced  in  pall. 

Nor  lacked  they,  while  they  sat  at  dine, 

The  music  nor  the  tale. 
Nor  goblets  of  the  blood-red  wine, 

Nor  mantling  quaighs  of  ale. 

True  Thomas  rose,  with  harp  in  hand, 

When  as  the  feast  was  done: 
(In  minstrel  strife,  in  Fairy  Land, 

The  elfin  harp  he  won.) 

Hushed  were  the  throng,  both  limb  and  tongue. 
And  harpers  for  envy  pale; 

*  See  Note  39-        '  Torwoodlee  and  Caddenhead  are  places  in  Selkirkshire. 
46  129 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

And  armed  lords  leaned  on  their  swords, 
And  hearkened  to  the  tale. 

In  numbers  high,  the  witching  tale 

The  prophet  poured  along; 
No  after  bard  might  e'er  avail 

Those  numbers  to  prolong. 

Yet  fragments  of  the  lofty  strain 
Float  down  the  tide  of  years, 

As,  buoyant  on  the  stormy  main, 
A  parted  wreck  appears. 

He  sung  King  Arthur's  Table  Round : 

The  Warrior  of  the  Lake; 
How  courteous  Gawaine  met  the  wound, 

And  bled  for  ladies'  sake. 

But  chief,  in  gentle  Tristrem's  praise. 

The  notes  melodious  swell ; 
Was  none  excelled  in  Arthur's  days, 

The  knight  of  Lionelle. 

For  Marke,  his  cowardly  uncle's  right, 

A  venomed  wound  he  bore ; 
When  fierce  Morholde  he  slew  in  fight, 

Upon  the  Irish  shore. 
130 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

No  art  the  poison  might  withstand ; 

No  medicine  could  be  found, 
Till  lovely  Isolde's  lily  hand 

Had  probed  the  rankling  wound. 

With  gentle  hand  and  soothing  tongue 

She  bore  the  leech's  part; 
And,  while  she  o'er  his  sick-bed  hung, 

He  paid  her  with  his  heart. 

O  fatal  was  the  gift,  I  ween! 

For,  doomed  in  evil  tide, 
The  maid  must  be  rude  Cornwall's  queen. 

His  cowardly  uncle's  bride. 

Their  loves,  their  woes,  the  gifted  bard 

In  fairy  tissue  wove; 
Where  lords,  and  knights,  and  ladies  bright, 

In  gay  confusion  strove. 

The  Garde  Joyeuse,  amid  the  tale, 
High  reared  its  glittering  head ; 

And  Avalon's  enchanted  vale 
In  all  its  wonders  spread. 

Brangwain  was  there,  and  Segremore, 
And  fiend-born  Merlin's  gramarye; 
131 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

Of  that  famed  wizard's  mighty  lore, 
O  who  could  sing  but  he? 

Through  many  a  maze  the  winning  song 

In  changeful  passion  led, 
Till  bent  at  length  the  listening  throng 

O'er  Tristrem's  dying  bed. 

His  ancient  wounds  their  scars  expand, 
With  agony  his  heart  is  wrung: 

O  where  is  Isolde's  lilye  hand, 
And  where  her  soothing  tongue? 

She  comes !  she  comes !  —  like  flash  of  flame 

Can  lovers'  footsteps  fly: 
She  comes !  she  comes !  —  she  only  came 

To  see  her  Tristrem  die. 

She  saw  him  die ;  her  latest  sigh 
Joined  in  a  kiss  his  parting  breath ; 

The  gentlest  pair,  that  Britain  bare, 
United  are  in  death. 

There  paused  the  harp :  its  lingering  sound 

Died  slowly  on  the  ear ; 
The  silent  guests  still  bent  around. 

For  still  they  seemed  to  hear. 
132 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

Then  woe  broke  forth  in  murmurs  weak, 
Nor  ladies  heaved  alone  the  sigh; 

But,  half  ashamed,  the  rugged  cheek 
Did  many  a  gauntlet  dry. 

On  Leader's  stream,  and  Learmont's  tower, 

The  mists  of  evening  close ; 
In  camp.  In  castle,  or  in  bower, 

Each  warrior  sought  repose. 

Lord  Douglas,  in  his  lofty  tent, 

Dreamed  o'er  the  woful  tale; 
When  footsteps  light,  across  the  bent, 

The  warrior's  ear  assail. 

He  starts,  he  wakes;  —  'What,  Richard,  ho! 

Arise,  my  page,  arise! 
What  venturous  wight,  at  dead  of  night, 

Dare  step  where  Douglas  lies!' 

Then  forth  they  rushed :  by  Leader's  tide, 

A  selcouth  sight  they  see  — 
A  hart  and  hind  pace  side  by  side, 

As  white  as  snow  on  Fairnalie.^ 

Beneath  the  moon,  with  gesture  proud, 
They  stately  move  and  slow ; 

*  See  Note  40. 


THOMAS   THE   RHYMER 

Nor  scare  they  at  the  gathering  crowd. 
Who  marvel  as  they  go. 

To  Learmont's  tower  a  message  sped, 

As  fast  as  page  might  run ; 
And  Thomas  started  from  his  bed, 

And  soon  his  clothes  did  on. 

First  he  woxe  pale,  and  then  woxe  red ; 
Never  a  word  he  spake  but  three ;  — 
*My  sand  is  run;  my  thread  is  spun; 
This  sign  regardeth  me.' 

The  elfin  harp  his  neck  around. 

In  minstrel  guise,  he  hung; 
And  on  the  wind,  in  doleful  sound, 

Its  dying  accents  rung. 

Then  forth  he  went ;  yet  turned  him  oft 

To  view  his  ancient  hall: 
On  the  grey  tower,  in  lustre  soft. 

The  autumn  moonbeams  fall; 

And  Leader's  waves,  like  silver  sheen. 
Danced  shimmering  in  the  ray; 

In  deepening  mass,  at  distance  seen, 
Broad  Soltra's  mountains  lay. 
134 


THOMAS  THE  RHYMER 

'Farewell,  my  father's  ancient  tower! 

A  long  farewell,'  said  he: 
'The  scene  of  pleasure,  pomp,  or  power, 

Thou  never  more  shalt  be. 

'To  Learmont's  name  no  foot  of  earth 

Shall  here  again  belong, 
And,  on  thy  hospitable  hearth, 

The  hare  shall  leave  her  young. 

'Adieu!  adieu!'  again  he  cried, 

All  as  he  turned  him  roun'  — 
'Farewell  to  Leader's  silver  tide! 

Farewell  to  Ercildoune!' 

The  hart  and  hind  approached  the  place. 

As  lingering  yet  he  stood ; 
And  there,  before  Lord  Douglas'  face. 

With  them  he  crossed  the  flood. 

Lord  Douglas  leaped  on  his  berry-brown  steed, 
And  spurred  him  the  Leader  o'er; 

But,  though  he  rode  with  lightning  speed, 
He  never  saw  them  more. 

Some  said  to  hill,  and  some  to  glen, 
Their  wondrous  course  had  been ; 

But  ne'er  in  haunts  of  living  men 
Again  was  Thomas  seen. 


THE   BARD'S   INCANTATION 

WRITTEN  UNDER  THE  THREAT  OF  INVASION  IN  THE 
AUTUMN    OF    1804 

The  forest  of  Glenmore  is  drear, 

It  is  all  of  black  pine  and  the  dark  oak-tree; 
And  the  midnight  wind  to  the  mountain  deer 

Is  whistling  the  forest  lullaby: 
The  moon  looks  through  the  drifting  storm, 
But  the  troubled  lake  reflects  not  her  form, 
For  the  waves  roll  whitening  to  the  land, 
And  dash  against  the  shelvy  strand. 

There  is  a  voice  among  the  trees 

That  mingles  with  the  groaning  oak  — 

That  mingles  with  the  stormy  breeze, 

And  the  lake-waves  dashing  against  the  rock ;  — 

There  is  a  voice  within  the  wood, 

The  voice  of  the  bard  in  fitful  mood ; 

His  song  was  louder  than  the  blast. 

As  the  bard  of  Glenmore  through  the  forest  past. 

'Wake  ye  from  your  sleep  of  death, 

Minstrels  and  bards  of  other  days! 
For  midnight  wind  is  on  the  heath, 
And  the  midnight  meteors  dimly  blaze: 
136 


THE  BARD'S  INCANTATION 

The  Spectre  with  his  Bloody  Hand  ^ 
Is  wandering  through  the  wild  woodland ; 
The  owl  and  the  raven  are  mute  for  dread, 
And  the  time  is  meet  to  awake  the  dead! 

'Souls  of  the  mighty,  wake  and  say 

To  what  high  strain  your  harps  were  strung, 

When  Lochlin  ploughed  her  billowy  way 
And  on  your  shores  her  Norsemen  flung? 

Her  Norsemen  trained  to  spoil  and  blood, 

Skilled  to  prepare  the  raven's  food, 

All  by  your  harpings  doomed  to  die 

On  bloody  Largs  and  Loncarty.^ 

'Mute  are  ye  all?  No  murmurs  strange 

Upon  the  midnight  breeze  sail  by," 
Nor  through  the  pines  with  whistling  change 

Mimic  the  harp's  wild  harmony! 
Mute  are  ye  now?  —  Ye  ne'er  were  mute 
When  Murder  with  his  bloody  foot, 
And  Rapine  with  his  iron  hand. 
Were  hovering  near  yon  mountain  strand. 

'O,  yet  awake  the  strain  to  tell, 
By  every  deed  in  song  enrolled, 

•  The  forest  of  Glenmore  is  haunted  by  a  spirit  called  Shamdearg,  or  Red 
Hand. 

•  Where  the  Norwegian  invader  of  Scotland  received  two  bloody  defeats. 


THE  BARD'S  INCANTATION 

By  every  chief  who  fought  or  fell, 

For  Albion's  weal  in  battle  bold :  — 
From  Coilgach/  first  who  rolled  his  car 
Through  the  deep  ranks  of  Roman  war, 
To  him  of  veteran  memory  dear 
Who  victor  died  on  Aboukir. 

*  By  all  their  swords,  by  all  their  scars. 
By  all  their  names,  a  mighty  spell! 
By  all  their  wounds,  by  all  their  wars, 

Arise,  the  mighty  strain  to  tell ! 
For  fiercer  than  fierce  Hengist's  strain. 
More  impious  than  the  heathen  Dane, 
More  grasping  than  all-grasping  Rome,  ^ 

Gaul's  ravening  legions  hither  come!' 

The  wind  is  hushed  and  still  the  lake  — 

Strange  murmurs  fill  my  tinkling  ears, 
Bristles  my  hair,  my  sinews  quake, 

At  the  dread  voice  of  other  years  — 
'When  targets  clashed  and  bugles  rung, 
And  blades  round  warriors'  heads  were  flung. 
The  foremost  of  the  band  were  we 
And  hymned  the  joys  of  Liberty!' 

>  The  Galgacus  of  Tacitus. 


HELLVELLYN  ^ 

1805 
I  CLIMBED  the  dark  brow  of  the  mighty  Hellvellyn, 
Lakes  and  mountains  beneath  me  gleamed  misty  and 
wide; 
All  was  still  save  by  fits,  when  the  eagle  was  yelling, 

And  starting  around  me  the  echoes  replied. 
On  the  right,  Striden-edge  round  the  Red-tarn  was  bend- 
ing, 
And  Catchedicam  its  left  verge  was  defending, 
One  huge  nameless  rock  in  the  front  was  ascending. 
When  I  marked  the  sad  spot  where  the  wanderer  had 
died. 

Dark  green  was  that  spot  mid  the  brown  mountain 
heather, 

Where  the  Pilgrim  of  Nature  lay  stretched  in  decay, 
Like  the  corpse  of  an  outcast  abandoned  to  weather 

Till  the  mountain-winds  wasted  the  tenantless  clay. 
Nor  yet  quite  deserted,  though  lonely  extended. 
For,  faithful  in  death,  his  mute  favourite  attended. 
The  much-loved  remains  of  her  master  defended. 

And  chased  the  hill-fox  and  the  raven  away. 

How  long  didst  thou  think  that  his  silence  was  slumber? 
When  the  wind  waved  his  garment,  how  oft  didst  thou 
start? 

>  See  Note  41. 


HELLVELLYN 

How  many  long  days  and  long  weeks  didst  thou  number, 

Ere  he  faded  before  thee,  the  friend  of  thy  heart? 
And  O,  was  it  meet  that  —  no  requiem  read  o'er  him, 
No  mother  to  weep  and  no  friend  to  deplore  him, 
And  thou,  little  guardian,  alone  stretched  before  him  — 
Unhonoured  the  Pilgrim  from  life  should  depart? 

When  a  prince  to  the  fate  of  the  peasant  has  yielded. 
The  tapestry  waves  dark  round  the  dim-lighted  hall ; 

With  scutcheons  of  silver  the  cofhn  is  shielded. 
And  pages  stand  mute  by  the  canopied  pall : 

Through  the  courts  at  deep  midnight  the  torches  are 
gleaming; 

In  the  proudly  arched  chapel  the  banners  are  beaming; 

Far  adown  the  long  aisle  sacred  music  is  streaming. 
Lamenting  a  chief  of  the  people  should  fall. 

But  meeter  for  thee,  gentle  lover  of  nature. 

To  lay  down  thy  head  like  the  meek  mountain  lamb. 
When  wildered  he  drops  from  some  cliff  huge  in  stature, 

And  draws  his  last  sob  by  the  side  of  his  dam. 
And  more  stately  thy  couch  by  this  desert  lake  lying, 
Thy  obsequies  sung  by  the  grey  plover  flying, 
With  one  faithful  friend  but  to  witness  thy  dying 
In  the  arms  of  Hellvellyn  and  Catchedicam. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

A  POEM 
IN  SIX  CANTOS 


Dum  relego,  scripsisse  pudet;  quia  plurima  cemo. 
Me  quoque  qui  feci  judice,  digna  lini. 


TO  THE 

RIGHT  HONOURABLE 

CHARLES,    EARL   OF  DALKEITH 

THIS   POEM   IS    INSCRIBED   BY 

THE   AUTHOR 


PREFACE 

The  Poem,  now  offered  to  the  Public,  is  intended  to  illustrate 
the  customs  and  manners  which  anciently  prevailed  on  the 
Borders  of  England  and  Scotland.  The  inhabitants  living  in  a 
state  partly  pastoral  and  partly  warlike,  and  combining  habits 
of  constant  depredation  with  the  influence  of  a  rude  spirit  of 
chivalry,  were  often  engaged  in  scenes  highly  susceptible  of 
poetical  ornament.  As  the  description  of  scenery  and  manners 
was  more  the  object  of  the  Author  than  a  combined  and  regular 
narrative,  the  plan  of  the  Ancient  Metrical  Romance  was 
adopted,  which  allows  greater  latitude,  in  this  respect,  than 
would  be  consistent  with  the  dignity  of  a  regular  Poem.  The 
same  model  offered  other  facilities,  as  it  permits  an  occasional 
alteration  of  measure,  which,  in  some  degree,  authorises  the 
change  of  rhythm  in  the  text.  The  machinery,  also,  adopted 
from  popular  belief,  would  have  seemed  puerile  in  a  Poem  which 
did  not  partake  of  the  rudeness  of  the  old  Ballad,  or  Metrical 
Romance. 

For  these  reasons,  the  Poem  was  put  into  the  mouth  of  an 
ancient  Minstrel,  the  last  of  the  race,  who,  as  he  is  supposed  to 
have  survived  the  Revolution,  might  have  caught  somewhat  of 
the  refinement  of  modern  poetry,  without  losing  the  simplicity 
of  his  original  model.  The  date  of  the  Tale  itself  is  about  the 
middle  of  the  sixteenth  century,  when  most  of  the  personages 
actually  flourished.  The  time  occupied  by  the  action  is  Three 
Nights  and  Three  Days. 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

A  POEM  of  nearly  thirty  years'  standing  may  be  supposed  hardly 
to  need  an  Introduction,  since,  without  one,  it  has  been  able  to 
keep  itself  afloat  through  the  best  part  of  a  generation.  Never- 
theless, as,  in  the  edition  of  the  Waverley  Novels  now  in  course 
of  publication,  I  have  imposed  on  myself  the  task  of  saying 
something  concerning  the  purpose  and  history  of  each,  in  their 
turn,  I  am  desirous  that  the  Poems  for  which  I  first  received 
some  marks  of  the  public  favour  should  also  be  accompanied 
with  such  scraps  of  their  literary  history  as  may  be  supposed  to 
carry  interest  along  with  them.  Even  if  I  should  be  mistaken 
in  thinking  that  the  secret  history  of  what  was  once  so  popular 
may  still  attract  public  attention  and  curiosity,  it  seems  to  me 
not  without  its  use  to  record  the  manner  and  circumstances 
under  which  the  present,  and  other  Poems  on  the  same  plan, 
attained  for  a  season  an  extensive  reputation. 

I  must  resume  the  story  of  my  literary  labours  at  the  period 
at  which  I  broke  off  in  the  Essay  on  the  Imitation  of  Popular 
Poetry,  when  I  had  enjoyed  the  first  gleam  of  public  favour,  by 
the  success  of  the  first  edition  of  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border.  The  second  edition  of  that  work,  published  in  1803, 
proved,  in  the  language  of  the  trade,  rather  a  heavy  concern. 
The  demand  in  Scotland  had  been  supplied  by  the  first  edition, 
and  the  curiosity  of  the  English  was  not  much  awakened  by 
poems  in  the  rude  garb  of  antiquity,  accompanied  with  notes 
referring  to  the  obscure  feuds  of  barbarous  clans,  of  whose  very 
names  civilised  history  was  ignorant.  It  was,  on  the  whole,  one 
of  those  books  which  are  more  praised  than  they  are  read. 

At  this  time  I  stood  personally  in  a  different  position  from 
that  which  I  occupied  when  I  first  dipt  my  desperate  pen  in 
ink  for  other  purposes  than  those  of  my  profession.  In  1796, 
when  I  first  published  the  translations  from  Burger,  I  was  an 

46  145 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

insulated  individual,  with  only  my  own  wants  to  provide  for, 
and  having,  in  a  great  measure,  my  own  inclinations  alone  to 
consult.  In  1803,  when  the  second  edition  of  the  Minstrelsy 
appeared,  I  had  arrived  at  a  period  of  life  when  men,  however 
thoughtless,  encounter  duties  and  circumstances  which  press 
consideration  and  plans  of  life  upon  the  most  careless  minds.  I 
had  been  for  some  time  married,  —  was  the  father  of  a  rising 
family,  and,  though  fully  enabled  to  meet  the  consequent 
demands  upon  me,  it  was  my  duty  and  desire  to  place  myself 
in  a  situation  which  would  enable  me  to  make  honourable 
provision  against  the  various  contingencies  of  life. 

It  may  be  readily  supposed  that  the  attempts  which  I  had 
made  in  literature  had  been  unfavourable  to  my  success  at  the 
bar.  The  goddess  Themis  is,  at  Edinburgh,  and  I  suppose 
everywhere  else,  of  a  peculiarly  jealous  disposition.  She  will 
not  readily  consent  to  share  her  authority,  and  sternly  demands 
from  her  votaries,  not  only  that  real  duty  be  carefully  attended 
to  and  discharged,  but  that  a  certain  air  of  business  shall  be 
observed  even  in  the  midst  of  total  idleness.  It  is  prudent,  if 
not  absolutely  necessary,  in  a  young  barrister,  to  appear  com- 
pletely engrossed  by  his  profession;  however  destitute  of  em- 
ployment he  may  in  reality  be,  he  ought  to  preserve,  if  possible, 
the  appearance  of  full  occupation.  He  should,  therefore,  seem 
perpetually  engaged  among  his  law-papers,  dusting  them,  as  it 
were ;  and,  as  Ovid  advises  the  fair, 

'Si  nullus  erit  pulvis,  tamen  excute  nullum.'  * 

Perhaps  such  extremity  of  attention  is  more  especially  required, 
considering  the  great  number  of  counsellors  who  are  called  to 
the  bar,  and  how  very  small  a  proportion  of  them  are  finally 
disposed,  or  find  encouragement,  to  follow  the  law  as  a  profes- 
sion. Hence  the  number  of  deserters  is  so  great  that  the  least 
lingering  look  behind  occasions  a  young  novice  to  be  set  down 
as  one  of  the  intending  fugitives.  Certain  it  is,  that  the  Scottish 
Themis  was  at  this  time  peculiarly  jealous  of  any  flirtation  with 

'  '  If  dust  be  none,  yet  brush  that  none  away.' 
146 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

the  Muses,  on  the  part  of  those  who  had  ranged  themselves 
under  her  banners.  This  was  probably  owing  to  her  conscious- 
ness of  the  superior  attractions  of  her  rivals.  Of  late,  however, 
she  has  relaxed  in  some  instances  in  this  particular,  an  eminent 
example  of  which  has  been  shown  in  the  case  of  my  friend  Mr. 
Jeffrey,  who,  after  long  conducting  one  of  the  most  influential 
literary  periodicals  of  the  age  with  unquestionable  ability,  has 
been,  by  the  general  consent  of  his  brethren,  recently  elected  to 
be  their  Dean  of  Faculty,  or  President,  —  being  the  highest 
acknowledgment  of  his  professional  talents  which  they  had  it 
in  their  power  to  oflfer.  But  this  is  an  incident  much  beyond 
the  ideas  of  a  period  of  thirty  years'  distance,  when  a  barrister 
who  really  possessed  any  turn  for  lighter  literature  was  at  as 
much  pains  to  conceal  it  as  if  it  had  in  reality  been  something 
to  be  ashamed  of;  and  I  could  mention  more  than  one  instance 
in  which  literature  and  society  have  suffered  much  loss  that 
jurisprudence  might  be  enriched. 

Such,  however,  was  not  my  case;  for  the  reader  will  not  won- 
der that  my  open  interference  with  matters  of  light  literature 
diminished  my  employment  in  the  weightier  matters  of  the  law. 
Nor  did  the  solicitors,  upon  whose  choice  the  counsel  takes 
rank  in  his  profession,  do  me  less  than  justice,  by  regarding 
others  among  my  contemporaries  as  fitter  to  discharge  the  duty 
due  to  their  clients,  than  a  young  man  who  was  taken  up  with 
running  after  ballads,  whether  Teutonic  or  national.  My  pro- 
fession and  I,  therefore,  came  to  stand  nearly  upon  the  footing 
which  honest  Slender  consoled  himself  on  having  established 
with  Mistress  Anne  Page:  'There  was  no  great  love  between  us 
at  the  beginning,  and  it  pleased  Heaven  to  decrease  it  on  further 
acquaintance.'  I  became  sensible  that  the  time  was  come  when 
I  must  either  buckle  myself  resolutely  to  the  'toil  by  day,  the 
lamp  by  night,'  renouncing  all  the  Delilahsof  my  imagination, 
or  bid  adieu  to  the  profession  of  the  law,  and  hold  another 
course. 

I  confess  my  own  inclination  revolted  from  the  more  severe 
choice,  which  might  have  been  deemed  by  many  the  wiser 

147 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

alternative.  As  my  transgressions  had  been  numerous,  my 
repentance  must  have  been  signalised  by  unusual  sacrifices.  I 
ought  to  have  mentioned  that  since  my  fourteenth  or  fifteenth 
year  my  health,  originally  delicate,  had  become  extremely 
robust.  From  infancy  I  had  laboured  under  the  infirmity  of  a 
severe  lameness;  but,  as  I  believe  is  usually  the  case  with  men 
of  spirit  who  suffer  under  personal  inconveniences  of  this  na- 
ture, I  had,  since  the  improvement  of  my  health,  in  defiance  of 
this  incapacitating  circumstance,  distinguished  myself  by  the 
endurance  of  toil  on  foot  or  horseback,  having  often  walked 
thirty  miles  a  day,  and  rode  upwards  of  a  hundred,  without 
resting.  In  this  manner  I  made  many  pleasant  journeys  through 
parts  of  the  country  then  not  very  accessible,  gaining  more 
amusement  and  instruction  than  I  have  been  able  to  acquire 
since  I  have  travelled  in  a  more  commodious  manner.  I  prac- 
tised most  sylvan  sports  also,  with  some  success  and  with  great 
delight.  But  these  pleasures  must  have  been  all  resigned,  or 
used  with  great  moderation,  had  I  determined  to  regain  my 
station  at  the  bar.  It  was  even  doubtful  whether  I  could,  with 
perfect  character  as  a  jurisconsult,  retain  a  situation  in  a  volun- 
teer corps  of  cavalry,  which  I  then  held.  The  threats  of  invasion 
were  at  this  time  instant  and  menacing;  the  call  by  Britain  on 
her  children  was  universal,  and  was  answered  by  some,  who  like 
myself,  consulted  rather  their  desire  than  their  ability  to  bear 
arms.  My  services,  however,  were  found  useful  in  assisting  to 
maintain  the  discipline  of  the  corps,  being  the  point  on  which 
their  constitution  rendered  them  most  amenable  to  military 
criticism.  In  other  respects  the  squadron  was  a  fine  one,  con- 
sisting chiefly  of  handsome  men,  well  mounted  and  armed  at 
their  own  expense.  My  attention  to  the  corps  took  up  a  good 
deal  of  time ;  and  while  it  occupied  many  of  the  happiest  hours 
of  my  life,  it  furnished  an  additional  reason  for  my  reluctance 
again  to  encounter  the  severe  course  of  study  indispensable  to 
success  in  the  juridical  profession. 

On  the  other  hand,  my  father,  whose  feelings  might  have 
been  hurt  by  my  quitting  the  bar,  had  been  for  two  or  three 

148 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

years  dead,  so  that  I  had  no  control  to  thwart  my  own  inclina- 
tion; and  my  income  being  equal  to  all  the  comforts,  and  some 
of  the  elegancies,  of  life,  I  was  not  pressed  to  an  irksome  labour 
by  necessity,  that  most  powerful  of  motives;  consequently,  I 
was  the  more  easily  seduced  to  choose  the  employment  which 
was  most  agreeable  to  me.  This  was  yet  the  easier,  that  in  1 800 
I  had  obtained  the  preferment  of  Sheriff  of  Selkirkshire,  about 
£300  a  year  in  value,  and  which  was  the  more  agreeable  to  me 
as  in  that  county  I  had  several  friends  and  relations.  But  I  did 
not  abandon  the  profession  to  which  I  had  been  educated  with- 
out certain  prudential  resolutions,  which,  at  the  risk  of  some 
egotism,  I  will  here  mention;  not  without  the  hope  that  they 
may  be  useful  to  young  persons  who  may  stand  in  circumstances 
similar  to  those  in  which  I  then  stood. 

In  the  first  place,  upon  considering  the  lives  and  fortunes  of 
persons  who  had  given  themselves  up  to  literature,  or  to  the 
task  of  pleasing  the  public,  it  seemed  to  me  that  the  circum- 
stances which  chiefly  affected  their  happiness  and  character 
were  those  from  which  Horace  has  bestowed  upon  authors  the 
epithet  of  the  Irritable  Race.  It  requires  no  depth  of  philosophic 
reflection  to  perceive  that  the  petty  warfare  of  Pope  with  the 
Dunces  of  his  period  could  not  have  been  carried  on  without  his 
suffering  the  most  acute  torture,  such  as  a  man  must  endure 
from  mosquitoes,  by  whose  stings  he  suffers  agony,  although 
he  can  crush  them  in  his  grasp  by  myriads.  Nor  is  it  necessary 
to  call  to  memory  the  many  humiliating  instances  in  which 
men  of  the  greatest  genius  have,  to  avenge  some  pitiful  quarrel, 
made  themselves  ridiculous  during  their  lives,  to  become  the 
still  more  degraded  objects  of  pity  to  future  times. 

Upon  the  whole,  as  I  had  no  pretension  to  the  genius  of  the 
distinguished  persons  who  had  fallen  into  such  errors,  I  con- 
cluded there  could  be  no  occasion  for  imitating  them  in  their 
mistakes,  or  what  I  considered  as  such;  and,  in  adopting  literary 
pursuits  as  the  principal  occupation  of  my  future  life,  I  resolved, 
if  possible,  to  avoid  those  weaknesses  of  temper  which  seemed 
to  have  most  easily  beset  my  more  celebrated  predecessors, 

149 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

With  this  view,  it  was  my  first  resolution  to  keep  as  far  as 
was  in  my  power  abreast  of  society,  continuing  to  maintain 
my  place  in  general  company,  without  yielding  to  the  very 
natural  temptation  of  narrowing  myself  to  what  is  called  literary 
society.  By  doing  so,  I  imagined  I  should  escape  the  besetting 
sin  of  listening  to  language  which,  from  one  motive  or  other,  is 
apt  to  ascribe  a  very  undue  degree  of  consequence  to  literary 
pursuits,  as  if  they  were,  indeed,  the  business,  rather  than  the 
amusement,  of  life.  The  opposite  course  can  only  be  compared 
to  the  injudicious  conduct  of  one  who  pampers  himself  with 
cordial  and  luscious  draughts,  until  he  is  unable  to  endure 
wholesome  bitters.  Like  Gil  Bias,  therefore,  I  resolved  to  stick 
by  the  society  of  my  commis,  instead  of  seeking  that  of  a  more 
literary  cast,  and  to  maintain  my  general  interest  in  what  was 
going  on  around  me,  reserving  the  man  of  letters  for  the  desk 
and  the  library. 

My  second  resolution  was  a  corollary  from  the  first.  I  deter- 
mined that,  without  shutting  my  ears  to  the  voice  of  true  criti- 
cism, I  would  pay  no  regard  to  that  which  assumes  the  form  of 
satire.  I  therefore  resolved  to  arm  myself  with  that  triple  brass 
of  Horace,  of  which  those  of  my  profession  are  seldom  held 
deficient,  against  all  the  roving  warfare  of  satire,  parody,  and 
sarcasm;  to  laugh  if  the  jest  was  a  good  one;  or,  if  otherwise,  to 
let  it  hum  and  buzz  itself  to  sleep. 

It  is  to  the  observance  of  these  rules  (according  to  my  best 
belief)  that,  after  a  life  of  thirty  years  engaged  in  literary 
labours  of  various  kinds,  I  attribute  my  never  having  been 
entangled  in  any  literary  quarrel  or  controversy;  and,  which  is 
a  still  more  pleasing  result,  that  I  have  been  distinguished  by 
the  personal  friendship  of  my  most  approved  contemporaries  of 
all  parties. 

I  adopted,  at  the  same  time,  another  resolution,  on  which  it 
may  doubtless  be  remarked  that  it  was  well  for  me  that  I  had 
it  in  my  power  to  do  so,  and  that,  therefore,  it  is  a  line  of  conduct 
which,  depending  upon  accident,  can  be  less  generally  appli- 
cable in  other  cases.   Yet  I  fail  not  to  record  this  part  of  my 

ISO 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

plan,  convinced  that,  though  it  may  not  be  in  every  one's 
power  to  adopt  exactly  the  same  resolution,  he  may  neverthe- 
less, by  his  own  exertions,  in  some  shape  or  other,  attain  the 
object  on  which  it  was  founded,  namely,  to  secure  the  means 
of  subsistence,  without  relying  exclusively  on  literary  talents. 
In  this  respect,  I  determined  that  literature  should  be  my  staff, 
but  not  my  crutch,  and  that  the  profits  of  my  literary  labour, 
however  convenient  otherwise,  should  not,  if  I  could  help  it, 
become  necessary  to  my  ordinary  expenses.  With  this  purpose 
I  resolved,  if  the  interest  of  my  friends  could  so  far  favour  me, 
to  retire  upon  any  of  the  respectable  offices  of  the  law,  in  which 
persons  of  that  profession  are  glad  to  take  refuge,  when  they 
feel  themselves,  or  are  judged  by  others,  incompetent  to  aspire 
to  its  higher  honours.  Upon  such  a  post  an  author  might  hope 
to  retreat,  without  any  perceptible  alteration  of  circumstances, 
whenever  the  time  should  arrive  that  the  public  grew  weary  of 
his  endeavours  to  please,  or  he  himself  should  tire  of  the  pen. 
At  this  period  of  my  life,  I  possessed  so  many  friends  capable 
of  assisting  me  in  this  object  of  ambition,  that  I  could  hardly 
overrate  my  own  prospects  of  obtaining  the  preferment  to 
which  I  limited  my  wishes;  and,  in  fact,  I  obtained,  in  no  long 
period,  the  reversion  of  a  situation  which  completely  met  them. 

Thus  far  all  was  well,  and  the  Author  had  been  guilty,  per- 
haps, of  no  great  imprudence,  when  he  relinquished  his  forensic 
practice  with  the  hope  of  making  some  figure  in  the  field  of 
literature.  But  an  established  character  with  the  public,  in  my 
new  capacity,  still  remained  to  be  acquired.  I  have  noticed 
that  the  translations  from  Biirger  had  been  unsuccessful,  nor 
had  the  original  poetry  which  appeared  under  the  auspices  of 
Mr.  Lewis,  in  the  Tales  of  Wonder,  in  any  great  degree  raised 
my  reputation.  It  is  true,  I  had  private  friends  disposed  to 
second  me  in  my  efforts  to  obtain  popularity.  But  I  was  sports- 
man enough  to  know,  that  if  the  greyhound  does  not  run  well, 
the  halloos  of  his  patrons  will  not  obtain  the  prize  for  him. 

Neither  was  I  ignorant  that  the  practice  of  ballad-writing 
was  for  the  present  out  of  fashion,  and  that  any  attempt  to 

151 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

revive  it,  or  to  found  a  poetical  character  upon  it,  would  cer- 
tainly fail  of  success.  The  ballad  measure  itself,  which  was  once 
listened  to  as  to  an  enchanting  melody,  had  become  hackneyed 
and  sickening,  from  its  being  the  accompaniment  of  every 
grinding  hand-organ;  and  besides,  a  long  work  in  quatrains, 
whether  those  of  the  common  ballad,  or  such  as  are  termed 
elegiac,  has  an  effect  upon  the  mind  like  that  of  the  bed  of 
Procrustes  upon  the  human  body;  for,  as  it  must  be  both 
awkward  and  difficult  to  carry  on  a  long  sentence  from  one 
stanza  to  another,  it  follows  that  the  meaning  of  each  period 
must  be  comprehended  within  four  lines,  and  equally  so  that  it 
must  be  extended  so  as  to  fill  that  space.  The  alternate  dilation 
and  contraction  thus  rendered  necessary  is  singularly  unfavour- 
able to  narrative  composition;  and  the  Gondibert  of  Sir  Wil- 
liam D'Avenant,  though  containing  many  striking  passages, 
has  never  become  popular,  owing  chiefly  to  its  being  told  in  this 
species  of  elegiac  verse. 

In  the  dilemma  occasioned  by  this  objection,  the  idea  oc- 
curred to  the  Author  of  using  the  measured  short  line,  which 
forms  the  structure  of  so  much  minstrel  poetry,  that  it  may  be 
properly  termed  the  Romantic  stanza,  by  way  of  distinction; 
and  which  appears  so  natural  to  our  language,  that  the  very 
best  of  our  poets  have  not  been  able  to  protract  it  into  the  verse 
properly  called  Heroic,  without  the  use  of  epithets  which  are, 
to  say  the  least,  unnecessary.^  But,  on  the  other  hand,  the 
extreme  facility  of  the  short  couplet,  which  seems  congenial  to 
our  language,  and  was,  doubtless  for  that  reason,  so  popular 
with  our  old  minstrels,  is,  for  the  same  reason,  apt  to  prove  a 
snare  to  the  composer  who  uses  it  in  more  modern  days,  by 

'  Thus  it  has  been  often  remarked,  that,  in  the  opening  couplets  of  Pope's  trans- 
lation of  the  Iliad,  there  are  two  syllables  forming  a  superfluous  word  in  each  line, 
as  may  be  observed  by  attending  to  such  words  as  are  printed  in  Italics. 

'  Achilles'  wrath,  to  Greece  the  direful  spring 
Of  woes  unnumber'd,  heavenly  goddess,  sing; 
That  wrath  which  sent  to  Pluto's  gloomy  reign, 
The  souls  of  mighty  chiefs  in  battle  slain. 
Whose  bones,  unburied  on  the  desert  shore, 
^    Devouring  dogs  and  hungry  vultures  tore.* 


,      AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

encouraging  him  in  a  habit  of  slovenly  composition.  The 
necessity  of  occasional  pauses  often  forces  the  young  poet  to 
pay  more  attention  to  sense,  as  the  boy's  kite  rises  highest 
when  the  train  is  loaded  by  a  due  counterpoise.  The  Author 
was  therefore  intimidated  by  what  Byron  calls  the  'fatal 
facility'  of  the  octosyllabic  verse,  which  was  otherwise  better 
adapted  to  his  purpose  of  imitating  the  more  ancient  poetry. 

I  was  not  less  at  a  loss  for  a  subject  which  might  admit  of 
being  treated  with  the  simplicity  and  wildness  of  the  ancient 
ballad.  But  accident  dictated  both  a  theme  and  measure  which 
decided  the  subject  as  well  as  the  structure  of  the  poem. 

The  lovely  young  Countess  of  Dalkeith,  afterwards  Harriet 
Duchess  of  Buccleuch,  had  come  to  the  land  of  her  husband 
with  the  desire  of  making  herself  acquainted  with  its  traditions 
and  customs,  as  well  as  its  manners  and  history.  All  who 
remember  this  lady  will  agree  that  the  intellectual  character  of 
her  extreme  beauty,  the  amenity  and  courtesy  of  her  manners, 
the  soundness  of  her  understanding,  and  her  unbounded  bene- 
volence, gave  more  the  idea  of  an  angelic  visitant  than  of  a  being 
belonging  to  this  nether  world;  and  such  a  thought  was  but  too 
consistent  with  the  short  space  she  was  permitted  to  tarry 
among  us.^  Of  course,  where  all  made  it  a  pride  and  pleasure  to 
gratify  her  wishes,  she  soon  heard  enough  of  Border  lore;  among 
others,  an  aged  gentleman  of  property,"  near  Langholm,  com- 
municated to  her  ladyship  the  story  of  Gilpin  Horner,  a  tradi- 
tion in  which  the  narrator,  and  many  more  of  that  country, 
were  firm  believers.  The  young  Countess,  much  delighted  with 
the  legend,  and  the  gravity  and  full  confidence  with  which  it 

»  [The  Duchess  of  Buccleuch  died  in  August,  1814.] 

'  This  was  Mr.  Beattie  of  Mickledale,  a  man  then  considerably  upwards  of 
eighty,  of  a  shrewd  and  sarcastic  temper,  which  he  did  not  at  all  times  suppress,  as 
the  following  anecdote  will  show:  A  worthy  clergyman,  now  deceased,  with  better 
good-will  than  tact,  was  endeavouring  to  push  the  senior  forward  in  his  recollec- 
tion of  Border  ballads  and  legends,  by  expressing  reiterated  surprise  at  his  wonder- 
ful memory.  '  No,  sir,'  said  old  Mickledale;  '  my  memory  is  good  for  little,  for  it 
cannot  retain  what  ought  to  be  preserved.  I  can  remember  all  these  stories  about 
the  auld  riding  days,  which  are  of  no  earthly  importance;  but  were  you,  reverend 
sir,  to  repeat  your  best  sermon  in  this  drawing-room,  I  could  not  tell  you  half  an 
hour  afterwards  what  you  had  been  speaking  about.' 

153 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

was  told,  enjoined  on  me  as  a  task  to  compose  a  ballad  on  the 
subject.  Of  course,  to  hear  was  to  obey;  and  thus  the  goblin 
story  objected  to  by  several  critics  as  an  excrescence  upon  the 
poem  was,  in  fact,  the  occasion  of  its  being  written. 

A  chance  similar  to  that  which  dictated  the  subject  gave  me 
also  the  hint  of  a  new  mode  of  treating  it.  We  had  at  that  time 
the  lease  of  a  pleasant  cottage  near  Lasswade,  on  the  romantic 
banks  of  the  Esk,  to  which  we  escaped  when  the  vacations  of 
the  Court  permitted  me  so  much  leisure.  Here  I  had  the  pleas- 
ure to  receive  a  visit  from  Mr.  Stoddart  (now  Sir  John  Stoddart, 
Judge- Advocate  at  Malta),  who  was  at  that  time  collecting  the 
particulars  which  he  afterwards  embodied  in  his  Remarks  on 
Local  Scenery  in  Scotland.  I  was  of  some  use  to  him  in  procur- 
ing the  information  which  he  desired,  and  guiding  him  to  the 
scenes  which  he  wished  to  see.  In  return,  he  made  me  better 
acquainted  than  I  had  hitherto  been  with  the  poetic  eflfusions 
which  have  since  made  the  Lakes  of  Westmoreland,  and  the 
authors  by  whom  they  have  been  sung,  so  famous  wherever  the 
English  tongue  is  spoken. 

I  was  already  acquainted  with  the  Joan  of  Arc,  the  Thai- 
aba,  and  the  Metrical  Ballads  of  Mr.  Southey,  which  had 
found  their  way  to  Scotland,  and  were  generally  admired.  But 
Mr.  Stoddart,  who  had  the  advantage  of  personal  friendship 
with  the  authors,  and  who  possessed  a  strong  memory  with  an 
excellent  taste,  was  able  to  repeat  to  me  many  long  specimens 
of  their  poetry,  which  had  not  yet  appeared  in  print.  Amongst 
others,  was  the  striking  fragment  called  Christahel,  by  Mr. 
Coleridge,  which,  from  the  singularly  irregular  structure  of  the 
stanzas,  and  the  liberty  which  it  allowed  the  author  to  adapt 
the  sound  to  the  sense,  seemed  to  be  exactly  suited  to  such  an 
extravaganza  as  I  meditated  on  the  subject  of  Gilpin  Horner. 
As  applied  to  comic  and  humorous  poetry,  this  mescolanza  of 
measures  had  been  already  used  by  Anthony  Hall,  Anstey,  Dr. 
Wolcott,  and  others;  but  it  was  in  Christabel  that  I  first 
found  it  used  in  serious  poetry,  and  it  is  to  Mr.  Coleridge  that  I 
am  bound  to  make  the  acknowledgment  due  from  the  pupil  to 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

his  master.  I  observe  that  Lord  Byron,  in  noticing  my  obliga- 
tions to  Mr.  Coleridge,  which  I  have  been  always  most  ready 
to  acknowledge,  expressed,  or  was  understood  to  express,  a  hope 
that  I  did  not  write  an  unfriendly  review  on  Mr.  Coleridge's 
productions.  On  this  subject  I  have  only  to  say  that  I  do  not 
even  know  the  review  which  is  alluded  to;  and  were  I  ever  to 
take  the  unbecoming  freedom  of  censuring  a  man  of  Mr.  Cole- 
ridge's extraordinary  talents,  it  would  be  on  account  of  the 
caprice  and  indolence  with  which  he  has  thrown  from  him,  as  if 
in  mere  wantonness,  those  unfinished  scraps  of  poetry,  which, 
like  the  Torso  of  antiquity,  defy  the  skill  of  his  poetical  brethren 
to  complete  them.  The  charming  fragments  which  the  author 
abandons  to  their  fate,  are  surely  too  valuable  to  be  treated 
like  the  proofs  of  careless  engravers,  the  sweepings  of  whose 
studios  often  make  the  fortune  of  some  painstaking  collector. 

I  did  not  immediately  proceed  upon  my  projected  labour, 
though  I  was  now  furnished  with  a  subject,  and  with  a  structure 
of  verse  which  might  have  the  effect  of  novelty  to  the  public 
ear,  and  afford  the  Author  an  opportunity  of  varying  his  meas- 
ure with  the  variations  of  a  romantic  theme.  On  the  contrary, 
it  was,  to  the  best  of  my  recollection,  more  than  a  year  after 
Mr.  Stoddart's  visit,  that,  by  way  of  experiment,  I  composed 
the  first  two  or  three  stanzas  of  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel.  I 
was  shortly  afterwards  visited  by  two  intimate  friends,  one  of 
whom  still  survives.  They  were  men  whose  talents  might  have 
raised  them  to  the  highest  station  in  literature,  had  they  not 
preferred  exerting  them  in  their  own  profession  of  the  law,  in 
which  they  attained  equal  preferment.  I  was  in  the  habit  of 
consulting  them  on  my  attempts  at  composition,  having  equal 
confidence  in  their  sound  taste  and  friendly  sincerity.^  In  this 
specimen  I  had,  in  the  phrase  of  the  Highland  servant,  packed 
all  that  was  my  own  at  least,  for  I  had  also  included  a  line  of 
invocation,  a  little  softened,  from  Coleridge  — 

1  One  of  these,  William  Erskine,  esq.  (Lord  Kinnedder) ,  I  have  often  had  occa- 
sion to  mention,  and  though  I  may  hardly  be  thanked  for  disclosing  the  name  of 
the  other,  yet  I  cannot  but  state  that  the  second  is  George  Cranstoun,  esq.,  now  a 
Senator  of  the  College  of  Justice  by  the  title  of  Lord  Corehouse.    (1831.] 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

'Mary,  mother,  shield  us  well.' 

As  neither  of  my  friends  said  much  to  me  on  the  subject  of  the 
stanzas  I  showed  them  before  their  departure,  I  had  no  doubt 
that  their  disgust  had  been  greater  than  their  good-nature  chose 
to  express.  Looking  upon  them,  therefore,  as  a  failure,  I  threw 
the  manuscript  into  the  fire,  and  thought  as  little  more  as  I 
could  of  the  matter.  Some  time  afterwards  I  met  one  of  my 
two  counsellors,  who  inquired,  with  considerable  appearance 
of  interest,  about  the  progress  of  the  romance  I  had  commenced, 
and  was  greatly  surprised  at  learning  its  fate.  He  confessed 
that  neither  he  nor  our  mutual  friend  had  been  at  first  able  to 
give  a  precise  opinion  on  a  poem  so  much  out  of  the  common 
road;  but  that  as  they  walked  home  together  to  the  city,  they 
had  talked  much  on  the  subject,  and  the  result  was  an  earnest 
desire  that  I  would  proceed  with  the  composition.  He  also 
added,  that  some  sort  of  prologue  might  be  necessary,  to  place 
the  mind  of  the  hearers  in  the  situation  to  understand  and 
enjoy  the  poem,  and  recommended  the  adoption  of  such  quaint 
mottoes  as  Spenser  has  used  to  announce  the  contents  of  the 
chapters  of  the  Faery  Queen,  such  as  — 

'  Babe's  bloody  hands  may  not  be  cleansed? 

The  face  of  Golden  Mean; 

Her  sisters,  two  Extremities, 

Strive  her  to  banish  clean.' 

I  entirely  agreed  with  my  friendly  critic  in  the  necessity  of 
having  some  sort  of  pitch-pipe,  which  might  make  readers 
aware  of  the  object,  or  rather  the  tone,  of  the  publication.  But  I 
doubted  whether,  in  assuming  the  oracular  style  of  Spenser's 
mottoes,  the  interpreter  might  not  be  censured  as  the  harder  to 
be  understood  of  the  two.  I  therefore  introduced  the  Old 
Minstrel,  as  an  appropriate  prolocutor  by  whom  the  lay  might 
be  sung  or  spoken,  and  the  introduction  of  whom  betwixt  the 
cantos  might  remind  the  reader  at  intervals  of  the  time,  place, 
and  circumstances  of  the  recitation.  This  species  of  cadre,  or 
frame,  aftenvards  afforded  the  poem  its  name  of  The  Lay  of  the 
Last  Minstrel. 

156 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

The  work  was  subsequently  shown  to  other  friends  during  its 
progress,  and  received  the  imprimatur  of  Mr.  Francis  Jeffrey, 
who  had  been  already  for  some  time  distinguished  by  his  critical 
talent. 

The  poem,  being  once  licensed  by  the  critics  as  fit  for  the 
market,  was  soon  finished,  proceeding  at  about  the  rate  of  a 
canto  per  week.  There  was,  indeed,  little  occasion  for  pause  or 
hesitation,  when  a  troublesome  rhyme  might  be  accommodated 
by  an  alteration  of  the  stanza,  or  where  an  incorrect  measure 
might  be  remedied  by  a  variation  of  the  rhyme.  It  was  finally 
published  in  1805,  and  may  be  regarded  as  the  first  work  in 
which  the  writer,  who  has  been  since  so  voluminous,  laid  his 
claim  to  be  considered  as  an  original  author. 

The  book  was  published  by  Longman  and  Company,  and 
Archibald  Constable  and  Company.  The  principal  of  the  latter 
firm  was  then  commencing  that  course  of  bold  and  liberal 
industry  which  was  of  so  much  advantage  to  his  country,  and 
might  have  been  so  to  himself,  but  for  causes  which  it  is  needless 
to  enter  into  here.  The  work,  brought  out  on  the  usual  terms 
of  division  of  profits  between  the  author  and  publishers,  was 
not  long  after  purchased  by  them  for  £500,  to  which  Messrs. 
Longman  and  Company  afterwards  added  £100,  in  their  own 
unsolicited  kindness,  in  consequence  of  the  uncommon  success 
of  the  work.  It  was  handsomely  given  to  supply  the  loss  of  a 
fine  horse,  which  broke  down  suddenly  while  the  Author  was 
riding  with  one  of  the  worthy  publishers. 

It  would  be  great  affectation  not  to  own  frankly,  that  the  Au- 
thor expected  some  success  from  The  Lay  of  the  Last  Minstrel. 
The  attempt  to  return  to  a  more  simple  and  natural  style  of 
poetry  was  likely  to  be  welcomed,  at  a  time  when  the  public  had 
become  tired  of  heroic  hexameters,  with  all  the  buckram  and 
binding  which  belong  to  them  of  later  days.  But  whatever 
might  have  been  his  expectations,  whether  moderate  or  unrea- 
sonable, the  result  left  them  far  behind,  for  among  those  who 
smiled  on  the  adventurous  Minstrel  were  numbered  the  great 
names  of  William  Pitt  and  Charles  Fox.  Neither  was  the  extent 


157 


AUTHOR'S  INTRODUCTION 

of  the  sale  inferior  to  the  character  of  the  judges  who  received 
the  poem  with  approbation.  Upwards  of  thirty  thousand  copies 
of  the  Lay  were  disposed  of  by  the  trade ;  and  the  Author  had 
to  perform  a  task  difficult  to  human  vanity,  when  called  upon 
to  make  the  necessary  deductions  from  his  own  merits,  in  a 
calm  attempt  to  account  for  his  popularity. 

A  few  additional  remarks  on  the  Author's  literary  attempts 
after  this  period,  will  be  found  in  the  Introduction  to  the  Poem 
of  Marmion. 
.    Abbotsford,  April,  1830. 


THE   LAY   OF   THE   LAST 
MINSTREL 

INTRODUCTION 

The  way  was  long,  the  wind  was  cold, 
The  Minstrel  was  infirm  and  old; 
His  withered  cheek  and  tresses  grey 
Seemed  to  have  known  a  better  day; 
The  harp,  his  sole  remaining  joy, 
Was  carried  by  an  orphan  boy. 
The  last  of  all  the  bards  was  he, 
Who  sung  of  Border  chivalry; 
For,  well-a-day !  their  date  was  fled, 
His  tuneful  brethren  all  were  dead; 
And  he,  neglected  and  oppressed. 
Wished  to  be  with  them  and  at  rest. 
No  more  on  prancing  palfrey  borne, 
He  carolled,  light  as  lark  at  morn; 
No  longer  courted  and  caressed. 
High  placed  in  hall,  a  welcome  guest. 
He  poured,  to  lord  and  lady  gay. 
The  unpremeditated  lay: 
Old  times  were  changed,  old  manners  gone; 
A  stranger  filled  the  Stuarts'  throne ; 
159 


INTRODUCTION 

The  bigots  of  the  iron  time 
Had  called  his  harmless  art  a  crime. 
A  wandering  harper,  scorned  and  poor, 
He  begged  his  bread  from  door  to  door, 
And  tuned,  to  please  a  peasant's  ear, 
The  harp  a  king  had  loved  to  hear. 
He  passed  where  Newark's  stately  tower 
Looks  out  from  Yarrow's  birchen  bower: 
The  Minstrel  gazed  with  wishful  eye  — 
No  humbler  resting-place  was  nigh. 
With  hesitating  step  at  last 
The  embattled  portal  arch  he  passed, 
Whose  ponderous  grate  and  massy  bar 
Had  oft  rolled  back  the  tide  of  war, 
But  never  closed  the  iron  door 
Against  the  desolate  and  poor. 
The  Duchess  ^  marked  his  weary  pace. 
His  timid  mien,  and  reverend  face. 
And  bade  her  page  the  menials  tell 
That  they  should  tend  the  old  man  well: 
For  she  had  known  adversity, 
Though  born  in  such  a  high  degree; 
In  pride  of  power,  in  beauty's  bloom, 
Had  wept  o'er  Monmouth's  bloody  tomb! 

'  Anne,  Duchess  of  Buccleuch  and  Monmouth,  representative  of  the  ancient 
Ix>rds  of  Buccleuch,  and  widow  of  the  unfortunate  James,  Duke  of  Monmouth, 
who  was  beheaded  in  16S5. 


160 


INTRODUCTION 

When  kindness  had  his  wants  supplied, 

And  the  old  man  was  gratified, 

Began  to  rise  his  minstrel  pride; 

And  he  began  to  talk  anon 

Of  good  Earl  Francis,^  dead  and  gone, 

And  of  Earl  Walter, ^  rest  him  God! 

A  braver  ne'er  to  battle  rode; 

And  how  full  many  a  tale  he  knew 

Of  the  old  warriors  of  Buccleuch: 

And,  would  the  noble  Duchess  deign 

To  listen  to  an  old  man's  strain. 

Though  stiff  his  hand,  his  voice  though  weak, 

He  thought  even  yet,  the  sooth  to  speak, 

That,  if  she  loved  the  harp  to  hear, 

He  could  make  music  to  her  ear. 

The  humble  boon  was  soon  obtained; 
The  aged  Minstrel  audience  gained. 
But  when  he  reached  the  room  of  state 
Where  she  with  all  her  ladies  sate, 
Perchance  he  wished  his  boon  denied: 
For,  when  to  tune  his  harp  he  tried. 
His  trembling  hand  had  lost  the  ease 
Which  marks  security  to  please; 
And  scenes,  long  past,  of  joy  and  pain 

1  Francis  Scott,  Earl  of  Buccleuch,  father  of  the  Duchess. 
*  Walter,  Earl  of  Buccleuch,  grandfather  of  the  Duchess,  and  a  celebrated 
warrior. 

46  l6l 


INTRODUCTION 

Came  wildering  o'er  his  aged  brain  — 
He  tried  to  tune  his  harp  in  vain. 
The  pitying  Duchess  praised  its  chime, 
And  gave  him  heart,  and  gave  him  time. 
Till  every  string's  according  glee 
Was  blended  into  harmony. 
And  then,  he  said,  he  would  full  fain 
He  could  recall  an  ancient  strain 
He  never  thought  to  sing  again. 
It  was  not  framed  for  village  churls, 
But  for  high  dames  and  mighty  earls; 
He  had  played  it  to  King  Charles  the  Good 
When  he  kept  court  in  Holyrood; 
And  much  he  wished,  yet  feared,  to  try 
The  long-forgotten  melody. 
Amid  the  strings  his  fingers  strayed. 
And  an  uncertain  warbling  made. 
And  oft  he  shook  his  hoary  head. 
But  when  he  caught  the  measure  wild. 
The  old  man  raised  his  face  and  smiled; 
And  lightened  up  his  faded  eye 
With  all  a  poet's  ecstasy! 
In  varying  cadence,  soft  or  strong. 
He  swept  the  sounding  chords  along: 
The  present  scene,  the  future  lot. 
His  toils,  his  wants,  were  all  forgot; 
Cold  diffidence  and  age's  frost 
162 


INTRODUCTION 

In  the  full  tide  of  song  were  lost; 
Each  blank,  in  faithless  memory  void, 
The  poet's  glowing  thought  supplied ; 
And,  while  his  harp  responsive  rung, 
'T  was  thus  the  Latest  Minstrel  sung. 


CANTO  FIRST 

I 

The  feast  was  over  in  Branksome  tower/ 

And  the  Ladye  had  gone  to  her  secret  bower, 

Her  bower  that  was  guarded  by  word  and  by  spell, 

Deadly  to  hear,  and  deadly  to  tell  — 

Jesu  Maria,  shield  us  well ! 

No  living  wight,  save  the  Ladye  alone, 

Had  dared  to  cross  the  threshold  stone. 

II 

The  tables  were  drawn,  it  was  idlesse  all; 

Knight  and  page  and  household  squire 
Loitered  through  the  lofty  hall, 

Or  crowded  round  the  ample  fire: 
The  stag-hounds,  weary  with  the  chase, 

Lay  stretched  upon  the  rushy  floor, 
And  urged  in  dreams  the  forest  race. 

From  Teviot-stone  to  Eskdale-moor. 

Ill 

Nine-and-twenty  knights  of  fame 

Hung  their  shields  in  Branksome  Hall ;  ^ 

«  See  Note  4a.  '  See  Note  43. 

164 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Nine-and-twenty  squires  of  name 

Brought  them  their  steeds  to  bower  from  stall; 
Nine-and-twenty  yeomen  tall 
Waited  duteous  on  them  all : 
They  were  all  knights  of  mettle  true, 
Kinsmen  to  the  bold  Buccleuch. 

IV 

Ten  of  them  were  sheathed  in  steel, 
With  belted  sword  and  spur  on  heel ; 
They  quitted  not  their  harness  bright, 
Neither  by  day  nor  yet  by  night: 

They  lay  down  to  rest, 

With  corselet  laced, 
Pillowed  on  buckler  cold  and  hard; 

They  carved  at  the  meal 

With  gloves  of  steel. 
And  they  drank  the  red  wine  through  the  helmet  barred. 

V 

Ten  squires,  ten  yeomen,  mail-clad  men, 
Waited  the  beck  of  the  warders  ten ; 
Thirty  steeds,  both  fleet  and  wight, 
Stood  saddled  in  stable  day  and  night, 
Barded  with  frontlet  of  steel,  I  trow, 
And  with  Jedwood-axe  at  saddle-bow;* 

>  See  Note  44. 
165 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

A  hundred  more  fed  free  in  stall :  — 
Such  was  the  custom  of  Branksome  Hall. 

VI 

Why  do  these  steeds  stand  ready  dight? 

Why  watch  these  warriors  armed  by  night? 

They  watch  to  hear  the  bloodhound  baying;  }.. 

They  watch  to  hear  the  war-horn  braying; 

To  see  Saint  George's  red  cross  streaming, 

To  see  the  midnight  beacon  gleaming; 

They  watch  against  Southern  force  and  guile, 

Lest  Scroop  or  Howard  or  Percy's  powers 

Threaten  Branksome's  lordly  towers,^ 
From  Warkworth  or  Naworth  or  merry  Carlisle. 

VII 

Such  is  the  custom  of  Branksome  Hall. 

Many  a  valiant  knight  is  here; 
But  he,  the  chieftain  of  them  all, 
His  sword  hangs  rusting  on  the  wall 

Beside  his  broken  spear. 
Bards  long  shall  tell 
How  Lord  Walter  fell!  2 
When  startled  burghers  fled  afar 

The  furies  of  the  Border  war,  i' 

i 
When  the  streets  of  high  Dunedm  '| 

>  See  Note  45.  '  See  Note  46. 

166 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Saw  lances  gleam  and  falchions  redden, 
And  heard  the  slogan's  deadly  yell,  — 
Then  the  Chief  of  Branksome  fell. 

VIII 

Can  piety  the  discord  heal. 

Or  staunch  the  death-feud's  enmity? 
Can  Christian  lore,  can  patriot  zeal, 

Can  love  of  blessed  charity? 
No!  vainly  to  each  holy  shrine. 

In  mutual  pilgrimage  they  drew, 
Implored  in  vain  the  grace  divine 

For  chiefs  their  own  red  falchions  slew. 
While  Cessford  owns  the  rule  of  Carr, 

While  Ettrick  boasts  the  line  of  Scott, 
The  slaughtered  chiefs,  the  mortal  jar, 
The  havoc  of  the  feudal  war. 

Shall  never,  never  be  forgot !  ^ 

IX 

In  sorrow  o'er  Lord  Walter's  bier 
The  warlike  foresters  had  bent. 

And  many  a  flower  and  many  a  tear 
Old  Teviot's  maids  and  matrons  lent; 

But  o'er  her  warrior's  bloody  bier 

The  Ladye  dropped  nor  flower  nor  tear! 

«  See  Note  47. 
167 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Vengeance,  deep-brooding  o'er  the  slain, 

Had  locked  the  source  of  softer  woe, 
And  burning  pride  and  high  disdain 

Forbade  the  rising  tear  to  flow; 
Until,  amid  his  sorrowing  clan, 

Her  son  lisped  from  the  nurse's  knee, 
'And  if  I  live  to  be  a  man. 

My  father's  death  revenged  shall  be!' 
Then  fast  the  mother's  tears  did  seek 
To  dew  the  infant's  kindling  cheek. 

X 

All  loose  her  negligent  attire, 

All  loose  her  golden  hair, 
Hung  Margaret  o'er  her  slaughtered  sire 

And  wept  in  wild  despair. 
But  not  alone  the  bitter  tear 

Had  filial  grief  supplied. 
For  hopeless  love  and  anxious  fear 

Had  lent  their  mingled  tide; 
Nor  in  her  mother's  altered  eye 
Dared  she  to  look  for  sympathy. 
Her  lover  'gainst  her  father's  clan 

With  Carr  in  arms  had  stood, ^ 
When  Mathouse-burn  to  Melrose  ran 

All  purple  with  their  blood ; 

I  See  Note  48. 
168 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  well  she  knew  her  mother  dread, 
Before  Lord  Cranstoun  she  should  wed/ 
Would  see  her  on  her  dying  bed. 

XI 

Of  noble  race  the  Ladye  came; 
Her  father  was  a  clerk  of  fame 

Of  Bethune's  line  of  Picardie:  "^ 
He  learned  the  art  that  none  may  name 

In  Padua,  far  beyond  the  sea.^ 
Men  said  he  changed  his  mortal  frame 

By  feat  of  magic  mystery; 
For  when  in  studious  mood  he  paced 

Saint  Andrew's  cloistered  hall, 
His  form  no  darkening  shadow  traced 

Upon  the  sunny  wall !  ^ 

XII 

And  of  his  skill,  as  bards  avow, 

He  taught  that  Ladye  fair. 
Till  to  her  bidding  she  could  bow 

The  viewless  forms  of  air.^ 
And  now  she  sits  in  secret  bower 
In  old  Lord  David's  western  tower, 
And  listens  to  a  heavy  sound 
That  moans  the  mossy  turrets  round. 

«  See  Note  49.        •  See  Note  so.        '  See  Note  Si. 
«  See  Note  52.        "  See  Note  S3. 

169 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Is  it  the  roar  of  Tcviot's  tide, 

That  chafes  against  the  scaur's  red  side? 

Is  it  the  wind,  that  swings  the  oaks? 

Is  it  the  echo  from  the  rocks? 

What  may  it  be,  the  heavy  sound, 

That  moans  old  Branksome's  turrets  round? 

XIII 

At  the  sullen,  moaning  sound 

The  ban-dogs  bay  and  howl, 
And  from  the  turrets  round 

Loud  whoops  the  startled  owl. 
In  the  hall,  both  squire  and  knight 

Swore  that  a  storm  was  near, 
And  looked  forth  to  view  the  night; 

But  the  night  was  still  and  clear! 

XIV 

From  the  sound  of  Teviot's  tide, 
Chafing  with  the  mountain's  side, 
From  the  groan  of  the  wind-swung  oak, 
From  the  sullen  echo  of  the  rock, 
From  the  voice  of  the  coming  storm, 

The  Ladye  knew  it  well ! 
It  was  the  Spirit  of  the  Flood  that  spoke. 

And  he  called  on  the  Spirit  of  the  Fell. 


170 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XV 
RIVER   SPIRIT 

'Sleep'st  thou,  brother?' 

MOUNTAIN   SPIRIT 

'  Brother,  nay  — 
On  my  hills  the  moonbeams  play. 
From  Craik-cross  to  Skelfhill-pen, 
By  every  rill,  in  every  glen, 
Merry  elves  their  morris  pacing, 

To  aerial  minstrelsy. 
Emerald  rings  on  brown  heath  tracing, 

Trip  it  deft  and  merrily. 
Up,  and  mark  their  nimble  feet! 
Up,  and  list  their  music  sweet ! ' 

XVI 
RIVER   SPIRIT 

'Tears  of  an  imprisoned  maiden 
Mix  with  my  polluted  stream; 

Margaret  of  Branksome,  sorrow-laden, 
Mourns  beneath  the  moon's  pale  beam. 

Tell  me,  thou  who  view'st  the  stars, 

When  shall  cease  these  feudal  jars? 

What  shall  be  the  maiden's  fate? 

Who  shall  be  the  maiden's  mate?' 
171 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XVII 
MOUNTAIN   SPIRIT 

'Arthur's  slow  wain  his  course  doth  roll 
In  utter  darkness  round  the  pole; 
The  Northern  Bear  lowers  black  and  grim, 
Orion's  studded  belt  is  dim; 
Twinkling  faint,  and  distant  far, 
Shimmers  through  mist  each  planet  star; 

111  may  I  read  their  high  decree: 
But  no  kind  influence  deign  they  shower 
On  Teviot's  tide  and  Branksome's  tower 

Till  pride  be  quelled  and  love  be  free.' 

XVIII 

The  unearthly  voices  ceased, 

And  the  heavy  sound  was  still; 
It  died  on  the  river's  breast, 

It  died  on  the  side  of  the  hill. 
But  round  Lord  David's  tower 

The  sound  still  floated  near; 
For  it  rung  in  the  Ladye's  bower, 

And  it  rung  in  the  Ladye's  ear. 
She  raised  her  stately  head. 

And  her  heart  throbbed  high  with  pride: 
'Your  mountains  shall  bend 
And  your  streams  ascend. 

Ere  Margaret  be  our  foeman's  bride!* 
172 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XIX 

The  Ladye  sought  the  lofty  hall, 

Where  many  a  bold  retainer  lay, 
And  with  jocund  din  among  them  all 

Her  son  pursued  his  infant  play. 
A  fancied  moss-trooper,^  the  boy 

The  truncheon  of  a  spear  bestrode, 
And  round  the  hall  right  merrily 

In  mimic  foray  rode. 
Even  bearded  knights,  in  arms  grown  old, 

Share  in  his  frolic  gambles  bore, 
Albeit  their  hearts  of  rugged  mould 

Were  stubborn  as  the  steel  they  wore. 
For  the  grey  warriors  prophesied 

How  the  brave  boy  in  future  war 
Should  tame  the  Unicorn's  pride, 

Exalt  the  Crescent  and  the  Star.^ 

XX 

The  Ladye  forgot  her  purpose  high 

One  moment  and  no  more, 
One  moment  gazed  with  a  mother's  eye 

As  she  paused  at  the  arched  door; 
Then  from  amid  the  armed  train 
She  called  to  her  William  of  Deloraine.^ 

>  See  Note  54-  '  See  Note  55.  «  See  Note  56. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXI 

A  stark  moss-trooping  Scott  was  he 

As  e'er  couched  Border  lance  by  knee: 

Through  Solway  Sands,  through  Tarras  Moss, 

Blindfold  he  knew  the  paths  to  cross; 

By  wily  turns,  by  desperate  bounds, 

Had  baffled  Percy's  best  bloodhounds;  * 

In  Eske  or  Liddel  fords  were  none 

But  he  would  ride  them,  one  by  one; 

Alike  to  him  was  time  or  tide, 

December's  snow  or  July's  pride; 

Alike  to  him  was  tide  or  time, 

Moonless  midnight  or  matin  prime: 

Steady  of  heart  and  stout  of  hand 

As  ever  drove  prey  from  Cumberland; 

Five  times  outlawed  had  he  been 

By  England's  king  and  Scotland's  queen. 

XXII 

*  Sir  William  of  Deloraine,  good  at  need, 
Mount  thee  on  the  wightest  steed; 
Spare  not  to  spur  nor  stint  to  ride 
Until  thou  come  to  fair  Tweedside; 
And  in  Melrose's  holy  pile 
Seek  thou  the  Monk  of  Saint  Mary's  aisle. 

»  See  Note  57. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Greet  the  father  well  from  me; 

Say  that  the  fated  hour  is  come, 
And  to-night  he  shall  watch  with  thee, 

To  win  the  treasure  of  the  tomb : 
For  this  will  be  Saint  Michael's  night. 
And  though  stars  be  dim  the  moon  is  bright, 
And  the  cross  of  bloody  red 
Will  point  to  the  grave  of  the  mighty  dead. 

XXIII 

'What  he  gives  thee,  see  thou  keep; 
Stay  not  thou  for  food  or  sleep: 
Be  it  scroll  or  be  it  book. 
Into  it,  knight,  thou  must  not  look; 
If  thou  readest,  thou  art  lorn ! 
Better  hadst  thou  ne'er  been  born!' 

XXIV 

*0  swiftly  can  speed  my  dapple-grey  steed, 

Which  drinks  of  the  Teviot  clear; 
Ere  break  of  day,'  the  warrior  gan  say, 

'Again  will  I  be  here: 
And  safer  by  none  may  thy  errand  be  done 

Than,  noble  dame,  by  me; 
Letter  nor  line  know  I  never  one. 
Were  't  my  neck-verse  at  Hairibee.'  ^ 

>  See  Note  s8. 

I7S 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXV 

Soon  in  his  saddle  sate  he  fast, 

And  soon  the  steep  descent  he  passed, 

Soon  crossed  the  sounding  barbican, 

And  soon  the  Teviot  side  he  won. 

Eastward  the  wooded  path  he  rode. 

Green  hazels  o'er  his  basnet  nod; 

He  passed  the  Peel  of  Goldiland, 

And  crossed  old  Borthwick's  roaring  strand; 

Dimly  he  viewed  the  Moat-hill's  mound, ^ 

Where  Druid  shades  still  flitted  round: 

In  Hawick  twinkled  many  a  light; 

Behind  him  soon  they  set  in  night; 

And  soon  he  spurred  his  courser  keen 

Beneath  the  tower  of  Hazeldean.^ 

XXVI 

The  clattering  hoofs  the  watchmen  mark: 
'Stand,  ho!  thou  courier  of  the  dark.' 
'For  Branksome,  ho!'  the  knight  rejoined. 
And  left  the  friendly  tower  behind. 
He  turned  him  now  from  Teviotside, 

And,  guided  by  the  tinkling  rill. 
Northward  the  dark  ascent  did  ride. 
And  gained  the  moor  at  Horseliehill ; 

>  See  Note  S9-  *  See  Note  60. 

176 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Broad  on  the  left  before  him  lay 
For  many  a  mile  the  Roman  way. 

XXVII 

A  moment  now  he  slacked  his  speed, 
A  moment  breathed  his  panting  steed, 
Drew  saddle-girth  and  corselet-band, 
And  loosened  in  the  sheath  his  brand. 
On  Minto-crags  the  moonbeams  glint, ^ 
Where  Barnhill  hewed  his  bed  of  flint, 
Who  flung  his  outlawed  limbs  to  rest 
Where  falcons  hang  their  giddy  nest 
Mid  cliffs  from  whence  his  eagle  eye 
For  many  a  league  his  prey  could  spy; 
Cliffs  doubling,  on  their  echoes  borne, 
The  terrors  of  the  robber's  horn; 
Cliffs  which  for  many  a  later  year 
The  warbling  Doric  reed  shall  hear. 
When  some  sad  swain  shall  teach  the  grove 
Ambition  is  no  cure  for  love. 

XXVIII 

Unchallenged,  thence  passed  Deloraine 
To  ancient  Riddel's  fair  domain, ^ 

Where  Aill,  from  mountains  freed, 
Down  from  the  lakes  did  raving  come; 

>  See  Note  6i.  »  See  Note  62. 

46  177 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Each  wave  was  crested  with  tawny  foam, 

Like  the  mane  of  a  chestnut  steed. 
In  vain !  no  torrent,  deep  or  broad, 
Might  bar  the  bold  moss-trooper's  road. 

XXIX 

At  the  first  plunge  the  horse  sunk  low, 

And  the  water  broke  o'er  the  saddle-bow: 

Above  the  foaming  tide,  I  ween, 

Scarce  half  the  charger's  neck  was  seen; 

For  he  was  barded  from  counter  to  tail. 

And  the  rider  was  armed  complete  in  mail; 

Never  heavier  man  and  horse 

Stemmed  a  midnight  torrent's  force. 

The  warrior's  very  plume,  I  say, 

Was  daggled  by  the  dashing  spray; 

Yet,  through  good  heart  and  Our  Ladye's  grace, 

At  length  he  gained  the  landing-place. 

XXX 


< 


Now  Bowden  Moor  the  march-man  won,  * 

And  sternly  shook  his  plumed  head,  |i 

As  glanced  his  eye  o'er  Halidon ;  ^ 
For  on  his  soul  the  slaughter  red 

Of  that  unhallowed  morn  arose. 

When  first  the  Scott  and  Carr  were  foes; 

»  See  Note  63. 
178 


i 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

When  royal  James  beheld  the  fray, 
Prize  to  the  victor  of  the  day; 
When  Home  and  Douglas  in  the  van 
Bore  down  Buccleuch's  retiring  clan, 
Till  gallant  Cessford's  heart-blood  dear 
Reeked  on  dark  Elliot's  Border  spear. 

XXXI 

In  bitter  mood  he  spurred  fast. 

And  soon  the  hated  heath  was  past; 

And  far  beneath,  in  lustre  wan, 

Old  Melros*  rose  and  fair  Tweed  ran: 

Like  some  tall  rock  with  lichens  grey, 

Seemed,  dimly  huge,  the  dark  Abbaye. 

When  Hawick  he  passed  had  curfew  rung, 

Now  midnight  lauds  were  in  Melrose  sung. 

The  sound  upon  the  fitful  gale 

In  solemn  wise  did  rise  and  fail, 

Like  that  wild  harp  whose  magic  tone 

Is  wakened  by  the  winds  alone. 

But  when  Melrose  he  reached  't  was  silence  all; 

He  meetly  stabled  his  steed  in  stall, 

And  sought  the  convent's  lonely  wall.* 


Here  paused  the  harp ;  and  with  its  swell 
The  Master's  fire  and  courage  fell: 

>  See  Note  64. 
179 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Dejectedly  and  low  he  bowed, 

And,  gazing  timid  on  the  crowd, 

He  seemed  to  seek  in  every  eye 

If  they  approved  his  minstrelsy; 

And,  diffident  of  present  praise, 

Somewhat  he  spoke  of  former  days, 

And  how  old  age  and  wandering  long 

Had  done  his  hand  and  harp  some  wrong. 

The  Duchess,  and  her  daughters  fair, 

And  every  gentle  lady  there, 

Each  after  each,  in  due  degree, 

Gave  praises  to  his  melody; 

His  hand  was  true,  his  voice  was  clear, 

And  much  they  longed  the  rest  to  hear. 

Encouraged  thus,  the  aged  man 

After  meet  rest  again  began. 


CANTO  SECOND 

I 

If  thou  wouldst  view  fair  Melrose  aright, 

Go  visit  it  by  the  pale  moonlight; 

For  the  gay  beams  of  lightsome  day 

Gild  but  to  flout  the  ruins  grey. 

When  the  broken  arches  are  black  in  night, 

And  each  shafted  oriel  glimmers  white ; 

When  the  cold  light's  uncertain  shower 

Streams  on  the  ruined  central  tower; 

When  buttress  and  buttress,  alternately, 

Seem  framed  of  ebon  and  ivory; 

When  silver  edges  the  imagery, 

And  the  scrolls  that  teach  thee  to  live  and  die ;  * 

When  distant  Tweed  is  heard  to  rave. 

And  the  owlet  to  hoot  o'er  the  dead  man's  grave, 

Then  go  —  but  go  alone  the  while  — 

Then  view  Saint  David's  ruined  pile;  ^ 

And,  home  returning,  soothly  swear 

Was  never  scene  so  sad  and  fair! 

II 

Short  halt  did  Deloraine  make  there ; 
Little  recked  he  of  the  scene  so  fair: 

»  See  Note  6$.  *  See  Note  66. 

i8i 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

With  dagger's  hilt  on  the  wicket  strong 
He  struck  full  loud,  and  struck  full  long. 
The  porter  hurried  to  the  gate: 
Who  knocks  so  loud,  and  knocks  so  late?* 
From  Branksome  I,'  the  warrior  cried; 
And  straight  the  wicket  opened  wide: 
For  Branksome's  chiefs  had  in  battle  stood 

To  fence  the  rights  of  fair  Melrose ; 
And  lands  and  livings,  many  a  rood, 

Had  gifted  the  shrine  for  their  souls'  repose.* 

Ill 

Bold  Deloraine  his  errand  said ; 

The  porter  bent  his  humble  head ; 

With  torch  in  hand,  and  feet  unshod, 

And  noiseless  step,  the  path  he  trod: 

The  arched  cloister,  far  and  wide, 

Rang  to  the  warrior's  clanking  stride, 

Till,  stooping  low  his  lofty  crest, 

He  entered  the  cell  of  the  ancient  priest, 

And  lifted  his  barred  aventayle 

To  hail  the  Monk  of  Saint  Mary's  aisle. 

IV 

*  The  Ladye  of  Branksome  greets  thee  by  me, 
Says  that  the  fated  hour  is  come, 

>  See  Note  67. 
182 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  that  to-night  I  shall  watch  with  thee, 
To  win  the  treasure  of  the  tomb.' 

From  sackcloth  couch  the  monk  arose, 
With  toil  his  stiffened  limbs  he  reared ; 

A  hundred  years  had  flung  their  snows 
On  his  thin  locks  and  floating  beard. 

V 

And  strangely  on  the  knight  looked  he. 
And  his  blue  eyes  gleamed  wild  and  wide: 

*  And  darest  thou,  warrior,  seek  to  see 

What  heaven  and  hell  alike  would  hide? 
My  breast  in  belt  of  iron  pent. 

With  shirt  of  hair  and  scourge  of  thorn, 
For  threescore  years,  in  penance  spent, 

My  knees  those  flinty  stones  have  worn; 
Yet  all  too  little  to  atone 
For  knowing  what  should  ne'er  be  known. 
Wouldst  thou  thy  every  future  year 

In  ceaseless  prayer  and  penance  drie, 
Yet  wait  thy  latter  end  with  fear  — 

Then,  daring  warrior,  follow  me!' 

VI 

*  Penance,  father,  will  I  none; 
Prayer  know  I  hardly  one; 

For  mass  or  prayer  can  I  rarely  tarry, 

183 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Save  to  patter  an  Ave  Mary, 

When  I  ride  on  a  Border  foray .^ 

Other  prayer  can  I  none; 

So  speed  me  my  errand,  and  let  me  be  gone.* 

VII 

Again  on  the  knight  looked  the  churchman  old, 

And  again  he  sighed  heavily; 
For  he  had  himself  been  a  warrior  bold, 

And  fought  in  Spain  and  Italy. 
And  he  thought  on  the  days  that  were  long  since  by, 
When  his  limbs  were  strong  and  his  courage  was  high: 
Now,  slow  and  faint,  he  led  the  way 
Where,  cloistered  round,  the  garden  lay; 
The  pillared  arches  were  over  their  head, 
And  beneath  their  feet  were  the  bones  of  the  dead.' 

VIII 

Spreading  herbs  and  flowerets  bright 
Glistened  with  the  dew  of  night ; 
Nor  herb  nor  floweret  glistened  there 
But  was  carved  in  the  cloister-arches  as  fair. 
The  monk  gazed  long  on  the  lovely  moon. 

Then  into  the  night  he  looked  forth; 
And  red  and  bright  the  streamers  light 

Were  dancing  in  the  glowing  north. 

«  See  Note  68.  •  See  Note  69. 

184 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

So  had  he  seen,  in  fair  Castile,^ 

The  youth  in  gUttering  squadrons  start, 

Sudden  the  flying  jennet  wheel, 
And  hurl  the  unexpected  dart. 

He  knew,  by  the  streamers  that  shot  so  bright, 

That  spirits  were  riding  the  northern  light. 

IX 

By  a  steel-clenched  postern  door 

They  entered  now  the  chancel  tall; 
The  darkened  roof  rose  high  aloof 

On  pillars  lofty  and  light  and  small : 
The  keystone  that  locked  each  ribbed  aisle 
Was  a  fleur-de-lys  or  a  quatre-feuille; 
The  corbels  were  carved  grotesque  and  grim ; 
And  the  pillars,  with  clustered  shafts  so  trim, 
With  base  and  with  capital  flourished  around, 
Seemed  bundles  of  lances  which  garlands  had  bound. 

X 

Full  many  a  scutcheon  and  banner  riven 
Shook  to  the  cold  night-wind  of  heaven, 

Around  the  screened  altar's  pale; 
And  there  the  dying  lamps  did  burn 
Before  thy  low  and  lonely  urn, 
O  gallant  Chief  of  Otterburne !  ^ 

>  See  Note  70.  «  See  Note  71. 

185 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  thine,  dark  Knight  of  Liddesdale!  ^ 
O  fading  honours  of  the  dead! 
O  high  ambition  lowly  laid! 

XI 

The  moon  on  the  east  oriel  shone  ^ 
Through  slender  shafts  of  shapely  stone, 

By  foliaged  tracery  combined ; 
Thou  wouldst  have  thought  some  fairy's  hand 
'Twixt  poplars  straight  the  osier  wand 

In  many  a  freakish  knot  had  twined, 
Then  framed  a  spell  when  the  work  was  done, 
And  changed  the  willow  wreaths  to  stone. 
The  silver  light,  so  pale  and  faint, 
Showed  many  a  prophet  and  many  a  saint, 

Whose  image  on  the  glass  was  dyed; 
Full  in  the  midst,  his  cross  of  red 
Triumphant  Michael  brandished. 

And  trampled  the  Apostate's  pride. 
The  moonbeam  kissed  the  holy  pane, 
And  threw  on  the  pavement  a  bloody  stain. 

XII 

They  sate  them  down  on  a  marble  stone '  — 

A  Scottish  monarch  slept  below; 
Thus  spoke  the  monk  in  solemn  tone: 

>  See  Note  72.  '  See  Note  73.  •  See  Note  74. 

186 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

'  I  was  not  always  a  man  of  woe ; 
For  Paynim  countries  I  have  trod, 
And  fought  beneath  the  Cross  of  God: 
Now,  strange  to  my  eyes  thine  arms  appear, 
And  their  iron  clang  sounds  strange  to  my  ear. 

XIII 

*  In  these  far  climes  it  was  my  lot 

To  meet  the  wondrous  Michael  Scott;  * 

A  wizard  of  such  dreaded  fame 
That  when,  in  Salamanca's  cave,^ 
Him  listed  his  magic  wand  to  wave. 

The  bells  would  ring  in  Notre  Dame !  ' 
Some  of  his  skill  he  taught  to  me ; 
And,  warrior,  I  could  say  to  thee 
The  words  that  cleft  Eildon  Hills  in  three, ^ 

And  bridled  the  Tweed  with  a  curb  of  stone: 
But  to  speak  them  were  a  deadly  sin. 
And  for  having  but  thought  them  my  heart  within 

A  treble  penance  must  be  done. 

XIV 

*  When  Michael  lay  on  his  dying  bed, 
His  conscience  was  awakened ; 

He  bethought  him  of  his  sinful  deed. 

And  he  gave  me  a  sign  to  come  with  speed: 

'  See  Note  75-         '  See  Note  76.         »  See  Note  77-        *  See  Note  78. 

187 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

I  was  In  Spain  when  the  morning  rose, 
But  I  stood  by  his  bed  ere  evening  close. 
The  words  may  not  again  be  said 
That  he  spoke  to  me,  on  death-bed  laid; 
They  would  rend  this  Abbaye's  massy  nave. 
And  pile  it  in  heaps  above  his  grave. 

XV 

*  I  swore  to  bury  his  Mighty  Book, 
That  never  mortal  might  therein  look; 
And  never  to  tell  where  it  was  hid, 
Save  at  his  Chief  of  Branksomc's  need; 
And  when  that  need  was  past  and  o'er, 
Again  the  volume  to  restore. 

I  buried  him  on  Saint  Michael's  night, 

When  the  bell  tolled  one  and  the  moon  was  bright, 

And  I  dug  his  chamber  among  the  dead, 

When  the  floor  of  the  chancel  was  stained  red, 

That  his  patron's  cross  might  over  him  wave, 

And  scare  the  fiends  from  the  wizard's  grave. 

XVI 

*  It  was  a  night  of  woe  and  dread 
When  Michael  in  the  tomb  I  laid; 
Strange  sounds  along  the  chancel  passed, 
The  banners  waved  without  a  blast '  — 

Still  spoke  the  monk,  when  the  bell  tolled  one !  — 
1 88 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

I  tell  you,  that  a  braver  man 
Than  William  of  Deloraine,  good  at  need, 
Against  a  foe  ne'er  spurred  a  steed; 
Yet  somewhat  was  he  chilled  with  dread, 
And  his  hair  did  bristle  upon  his  head. 

XVII 

*  Lo,  warrior !  now,  the  cross  of  red 
Points  to  the  grave  of  the  mighty  dead : 
Within  it  burns  a  wondrous  light. 
To  chase  the  spirits  that  love  the  night; 
That  lamp  shall  burn  unquenchably. 
Until  the  eternal  doom  shall  be.*^ 
Slow  moved  the  monk  to  the  broad  flagstone 
Which  the  bloody  cross  was  traced  upon : 
He  pointed  to  a  secret  nook; 
An  iron  bar  the  warrior  took; 

And  the  monk  made  a  sign  with  his  withered  hand, 
The  grave's  huge  portal  to  expand. 

XVIII 

With  beating  heart  to  the  task  he  went, 
His  sinewy  frame  o'er  the  gravestone  bent, 
With  bar  of  iron  heaved  amain 
Till  the  toil-drops  fell  from  his  brows  like  rain. 
It  was  by  dint  of  passing  strength 

>  See  Note  79. 
189 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

That  he  moved  the  massy  stone  at  length. 
I  would  you  had  been  there  to  see 
How  the  light  broke  forth  so  gloriously, 
Streamed  upward  to  the  chancel  roof, 
And  through  the  galleries  far  aloof! 
No  earthly  flame  blazed  e'er  so  bright; 
It  shone  like  heaven's  own  blessed  light. 

And,  issuing  from  the  tomb, 
Showed  the  monk's  cowl  and  visage  pale. 
Danced  on  the  dark-browed  warrior's  mail, 

And  kissed  his  waving  plume. 

XIX 

Before  their  eyes  the  wizard  lay. 

As  if  he  had  not  been  dead  a  day. 

His  hoary  beard  in  silver  rolled, 

He  seemed  some  seventy  winters  old; 

A  palmer's  amice  wrapped  him  round. 

With  a  wrought  Spanish  baldric  bound, 

Like  a  pilgrim  from  beyond  the  sea: 
His  left  hand  held  his  Book  of  Might, 
A  silver  cross  was  in  his  right; 

The  lamp  was  placed  beside  his  knee. 
High  and  majestic  was  his  look, 
At  which  the  fellest  fiends  had  shook. 
And  all  unruffled  was  his  face: 
They  trusted  his  soul  had  gotten  grace. 
190 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XX 

Often  had  William  of  Deloraine 

Rode  through  the  battle's  bloody  plain, 

And  trampled  down  the  warriors  slain, 

And  neither  known  remorse  nor  awe, 
-  Yet  now  remorse  and  awe  he  owned ; 
His  breath  came  thick,  his  head  swam  round, 

When  this  strange  scene  of  death  he  saw. 
Bewildered  and  unnerved  he  stood. 
And  the  priest  prayed  fervently  and  loud: 
With  eyes  averted  prayed  he; 
He  might  not  endure  the  sight  to  see 
Of  the  man  he  had  loved  so  brotherly. 

XXI 

And  when  the  priest  his  death-prayer  had  prayed, 
Thus  unto  Deloraine  he  said : 
*  Now,  speed  thee  what  thou  hast  to  do, 
Or,  warrior,  we  may  dearly  rue; 
For  those  thou  mayst  not  look  upon 
Are  gathering  fast  round  the  yawning  stone ! ' 
Then  Deloraine  in  terror  took 
From  the  cold  hand  the  Mighty  Book, 
With  iron  clasped  and  with  iron  bound: 
He  thought,  as  he  took  it,  the  dead  man  frowned;* 

>  See  Note  80. 
191 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

But  the  glare  of  the  sepulchral  light 
Perchance  had  dazzled  the  warrior's  sight. 

XXII 

When  the  huge  stone  sunk  o'er  the  tomb, 
The  night  returned  in  double  gloom, 
^  For  the  moon  had  gone  down  and  the  stars  were  few; 
And  as  the  knight  and  priest  withdrew, 
With  wavering  steps  and  dizzy  brain, 
They  hardly  might  the  postern  gain. 
'T  is  said,  as  through  the  aisles  they  passed, 
They  heard  strange  noises  on  the  blast; 
And  through  the  cloister-galleries  small, 
Which  at  mid-height  thread  the  chancel  wall, 
Loud  sobs,  and  laughter  louder,  ran, 
And  voices  unlike  the  voice  of  man. 
As  if  the  fiends  kept  holiday 
Because  these  spells  were  brought  to-day, 
I  cannot  tell  how  the  truth  may  be; 
I  say  the  tale  as  't  was  said  to  me. 

XXIII 

*  Now,  hie  thee  hence,'  the  father  said, 

*  And  when  we  are  on  death-bed  laid, 

O  may  our  dear  Ladye  and  sweet  Saint  John 
Forgive  our  souls  for  the  deed  we  have  done!* 
The  monk  returned  him  to  his  cell, 
192 


I 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  many  a  prayer  and  penance  sped ; 
When  the  convent  met  at  the  noontide  bell, 

The  Monk  of  Saint  Mary's  aisle  was  dead ! 
Before  the  cross  was  the  body  laid, 
With  hands  clasped  fast,  as  if  still  he  prayed. 

XXIV 

The  knight  breathed  free  in  the  morning  wind, 

And  strove  his  hardihood  to  find : 

He  was  glad  when  he  passed  the  tombstones  grey 

Which  girdle  round  the  fair  Abbaye ; 

For  the  mystic  book,  to  his  bosom  pressed, 

Felt  like  a  load  upon  his  breast. 

And  his  joints,  with  nerves  of  iron  twined, 

Shook  like  the  aspen-leaves  in  wind. 

Full  fain  was  he  when  the  dawn  of  day 

Began  to  brighten  Cheviot  grey ; 

He  joyed  to  see  the  cheerful  light, 

And  he  said  Ave  Mary  as  well  as  he  might. 

XXV 

The  sun  had  brightened  Cheviot  grey, 

The  sun  had  brightened  the  Carter's  side ;  ^ 

And  soon  beneath  the  rising  day 

Smiled  Branksome  towers  and  Teviot's  tide. 

The  wild  birds  told  their  warbling  tale, 

•  A  mountain  on  the  border  of  England,  above  Jedburgh. 
46  193 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  wakened  every  flower  that  blows; 
And  peeped  forth  the  violet  pale, 

And  spread  her  breast  the  mountain  rose. 
And  lovelier  than  the  rose  so  red, 

Yet  paler  than  the  violet  pale, 
She  early  left  her  sleepless  bed, 

The  fairest  maid  of  Teviotdale. 

XXVI 

Why  does  fair  Margaret  so  early  awake, 

And  don  her  kirtle  so  hastilie ; 
And  the  silken  knots,  which  in  hurry  she  would  make. 

Why  tremble  her  slender  fingers  to  tie? 
Why  does  she  stop  and  look  often  around, 

As  she  glides  down  the  secret  stair ; 
And  why  does  she  pat  the  shaggy  bloodhound. 

As  he  rouses  him  up  from  his  lair; 
And,  though  she  passes  the  postern  alone. 
Why  is  not  the  watchman's  bugle  blown? 

xxvii 

The  ladye  steps  In  doubt  and  dread 
Lest  her  watchful  mother  hear  her  tread ; 
The  ladye  caresses  the  rough  bloodhound 
Lest  his  voice  should  waken  the  castle  round ; 
The  watchman's  bugle  is  not  blown. 
For  he  was  her  foster  father's  son ; 

194 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  she  glides  through  the  greenwood  at  dawn  of  light 
To  meet  Baron  Henry,  her  own  true  knight. 

XXVIII 

The  knight  and  lad  ye  fair  are  met, 

And  under  the  hawthorn's  boughs  are  set. 

A  fairer  pair  were  never  seen 

To  meet  beneath  the  hawthorn  green. 

He  was  stately  and  young  and  tall, 

Dreaded  in  battle  and  loved  in  hall ; 

And  she,  when  love,  scarce  told,  scarce  hid, 

Lent  to  her  cheek  a  livelier  red, 

When  the  half  sigh  her  swelling  breast 

Against  the  silken  ribbon  pressed, 

When  her  blue  eyes  their  secret  told, 

Though  shaded  by  her  locks  of  gold  — 

Where  would  you  find  the  peerless  fair 

With  Margaret  of  Branksome  might  compare! 

XXIX 

And  now,  fair  dames,  methinks  I  see 
You  listen  to  my  minstrelsy; 
Your  waving  locks  ye  backward  throw, 
And  sidelong  bend  your  necks  of  snow. 
Ye  ween  to  hear  a  melting  tale 
Of  two  true  lovers  in  a  dale ; 
And  how  the  knight,  with  tender  fire, 

195 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

To  paint  his  faithful  passion  strove, 
Swore  he  might  at  her  feet  expire, 

But  never,  never  cease  to  love; 
And  how  she  blushed,  and  how  she  sighed, 
And,  half  consenting,  half  denied. 
And  said  that  she  would  die  a  maid ;  — 
Yet,  might  the  bloody  feud  be  stayed, 
Henry  of  Cranstoun,  and  only  he, 
Margaret  of  Branksome's  choice  should  be. 

XXX 

Alas!  fair  dames,  your  hopes  are  vain! 
My  harp  has  lost  the  enchanting  strain ; 

Its  lightness  would  my  age  reprove: 
My  hairs  are  grey,  my  limbs  are  old, 
My  heart  is  dead,  my  veins  are  cold: 

I  may  not,  must  not,  sing  of  love. 

XXXI 

Beneath  an  oak,  mossed  o'er  by  eld. 
The  Baron's  dwarf  his  courser  held,* 

And  held  his  crested  helm  and  spear: 
That  dwarf  was  scarce  an  earthly  man. 
If  the  tales  were  true  that  of  him  ran 

Through  all  the  Border  far  and  near. 
'T  was  said,  when  the  Baron  a-hunting  rode 

I  See  Note  8i. 
196 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Through  Reedsdale's  glens,  but  rarely  trod, 
He  heard  a  voice  cry,  '  Lost !  lost !  lost ! ' 
And,  like  tennis-ball  by  racket  tossed, 

A  leap  of  thirty  feet  and  three 
Made  from  the  gorse  this  elfin  shape, 
Distorted  like  some  dwarfish  ape. 

And  lighted  at  Lord  Cranstoun's  knee. 
Lord  Cranstoun  was  some  whit  dismayed; 
'T  is  said  that  five  good  miles  he  rade, 

To  rid  him  of  his  company; 
But  where  he  rode  one  mile,  the  dwarf  ran  four, 
And  the  dwarf  was  first  at  the  castle  door. 

XXXII 

Use  lessens  marvel,  it  is  said: 

This  elfish  dwarf  with  the  Baron  staid; 

Little  he  ate,  and  less  he  spoke. 

Nor  mingled  with  the  menial  flock; 

And  oft  apart  his  arms  he  tossed, 

And  often  muttered,  'Lost!  lost!  lost!* 
He  was  waspish,  arch,  and  litherlie, 
But  well  Lord  Cranstoun  served  he: 

And  he  of  his  service  was  full  fain; 

For  once  he  had  been  ta'en  or  slain. 
An  it  had  not  been  for  his  ministry. 

All  between  Home  and  Hermitage 

Talked  of  Lord  Cranstoun's  Goblin  Page. 
197 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXXIII 

For  the  Baron  went  on  pilgrimage, 
And  took  with  him  this  elfish  page, 

To  Mary's  Chapel  of  the  Lowes; 
For  there,  beside  Our  Ladye's  lake,] 
An  offering  he  had  sworn  to  make, 

And  he  would  pay  his  vows. 
But  the  Ladye  of  Branksome  gathered  a  band  * 
Of  the  best  that  would  ride  at  her  command; 

The  trysting-place  was  Newark  Lee. 
Wat  of  Harden  came  thither  amain, 
And  thither  came  John  of  Thirlestane, 
And  thither  came  William  of  Deloraine; 

They  were  three  hundred  spears  and  three. 
Through  Douglas-burn,  up  Yarrow  stream. 
Their  horses  prance,  their  lances  gleam. 
They  came  to  Saint  Mary's  lake  ere  day, 
But  the  chapel  was  void  and  the  Baron  away. 
They  burned  the  chapel  for  very  rage, 
And  cursed  Lord  Cranstoun's  Goblin  Page. 

XXXIV 

And  now,  in  Branksome's  good  greenwood, 
As  under  the  aged  oak  he  stood. 
The  Baron's  courser  pricks  his  ears, 

«  See  Note  82. 
198 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

As  if  a  distant  noise  he  hears. 
The  dwarf  waves  his  long  lean  arm  on  high, 
And  signs  to  the  lovers  to  part  and  fly; 
No  time  was  then  to  vow  or  sigh. 
Fair  Margaret  through  the  hazel-grove 
Flew  like  the  startled  cushat-dove: 
The  dwarf  the  stirrup  held  and  rein ; 
Vaulted  the  knight  on  his  steed  amain, 
And,  pondering  deep  that  morning's  scene. 
Rode  eastward  through  the  hawthorns  green. 


While  thus  he  poured  the  lengthened  tale, 
The  Minstrel's  voice  began  to  fail. 
Full  slyly  smiled  the  observant  page. 
And  gave  the  withered  hand  of  age 
A  goblet,  crowned  with  mighty  wine, 
The  blood  of  Velez'  scorched  vine. 
He  raised  the  silver  cup  on  high, 
And,  while  the  big  drop  filled  his  eye. 
Prayed  God  to  bless  the  Duchess  long, 
And  all  who  cheered  a  son  of  song. 
The  attending  maidens  smiled  to  see 
How  long,  how  deep,  how  zealously, 
The  precious  juice  the  Minstrel  quaffed; 
And  he,  emboldened  by  the  draught. 
Looked  gaily  back  to  them  and  laughed. 
199 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

The  cordial  nectar  of  the  bowl  " 

Swelled  his  old  veins  and  cheered  his  soul;  ^ 

A  lighter,  livelier  prelude  ran,  ^ 
Ere  thus  his  tale  again  began. 


CANTO  THIRD 

I 

And  said  I  that  my  limbs  were  old, 
And  said  I  that  my  blood  was  cold, 
And  that  my  kindly  fire  was  fled, 
And  my  poor  withered  heart  was  dead, 

And  that  I  might  not  sing  of  love?  — 
How  could  I  to  the  dearest  theme 
That  ever  warmed  a  minstrel's  dream, 

So  foul,  so  false  a  recreant  prove? 
How  could  I  name  love's  very  name. 
Nor  wake  my  heart  to  notes  of  flame? 

II 

In  peace,  Love  tunes  the  shepherd's  reed; 

In  war,  he  mounts  the  warrior's  steed ; 

In  halls,  in  gay  attire  is  seen ; 

In  hamlets,  dances  on  the  green. 

Love  rules  the  court,  the  camp,  the  grove, 

And  men  below,  and  saints  above ; 

For  love  is  heaven,  and  heaven  is  love. 

Ill 

So  thought  Lord  Cranstoun,  as  I  ween, 
While,  pondering  deep  the  tender  scene, 

20I 

Mil  n  hnf^^AiA  i>8ruL  iiUUt^L  LliL 


THE    LAY   OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

He  rode  through  Branksome's  hawthorn  green. 
But  the  page  shouted  wild  and  shrill, 

And  scarce  his  helmet  could  he  don, 
When  downward  from  the  shady  hill 

A  stately  knight  came  pricking  on. 
That  warrior's  steed,  so  dapple-grey, 
Was  dark  with  sweat  and  splashed  with  clay, 

His  armour  red  with  many  a  stain : 
He  seemed  in  such  a  weary  plight, 
As  if  he  had  ridden  the  livelong  night; 

For  it  was  William  of  Deloraine. 


IV 

But  no  whit  weary  did  he  seem, 

When,  dancing  in  the  sunny  beam. 

He  marked  the  crane  on  the  Baron's  crest;  * 

For  his  ready  spear  was  in  his  rest. 

Few  were  the  words,  and  stern  and  high, 

That  marked  the  foemen's  feudal  hate; 
For  question  fierce  and  proud  reply 

Gave  signal  soon  of  dire  debate. 
Their  very  coursers  seemed  to  know 
That  each  was  other's  mortal  foe, 
And  snorted  fire  when  wheeled  around 
To  give  each  knight  his  vantage-ground. 

>  See  Note  83. 
202 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 


In  rapid  round  the  Baron  bent; 

He  sighed  a  sigh  and  breathed  a  prayer ; 
The  prayer  was  to  his  patron  saint, 

The  sigh  was  to  his  ladye  fair. 
Stout  Deloraine  nor  sighed  nor  prayed, 
Nor  saint  nor  ladye  called  to  aid ; 
But  he  stooped  his  head,  and  couched  his  spear, 
And  spurred  his  steed  to  full  career. 
The  meeting  of  these  champions  proud 
Seemed  like  the  bursting  thunder-cloud. 

VI 

Stern  was  the  dint  the  Borderer  lent! 
The  stately  Baron  backwards  bent. 
Bent  backwards  to  his  horse's  tail, 
And  his  plumes  went  scattering  on  the  gale; 
The  tough  ash  spear,  so  stout  and  true. 
Into  a  thousand  flinders  flew. 
But  Cranstoun's  lance,  of  more  avail, 
Pierced  through,  like  silk,  the  Borderer's  mail; 
Through  shield  and  jack  and  acton  passed. 
Deep  in  his  bosom  broke  at  last. 
Still  sate  the  warrior  saddle-fast. 
Till,  stumbling  in  the  mortal  shock, 
Down  went  the  steed,  the  girthing  broke, 
203 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Hurled  on  a  heap  lay  man  and  horse. 
The  Baron  onward  passed  his  course, 
Nor  knew  —  so  giddy  rolled  his  brain  — 
His  foe  lay  stretched  upon  the  plain. 


VII 

But  when  he  reined  his  courser  round, 
And  saw  his  foeman  on  the  ground 
Lie  senseless  as  the  bloody  clay. 
He  bade  his  page  to  staunch  the  wound. 

And  there  beside  the  warrior  stay, 
And  tend  him  in  his  doubtful  state. 
And  lead  him  to  Branksome  castle-gate: 
His  noble  mind  was  inly  moved 
For  the  kinsman  of  the  maid  he  loved. 
*  This  shalt  thou  do  without  delay: 
No  longer  here  myself  may  stay; 
Unless  the  swifter  I  speed  away, 
Short  shrift  will  be  at  my  dying  day. 

VIII 

Away  in  speed  Lord  Cranstoun  rode; 
The  Goblin  Page  behind  abode; 
His  lord's  command  he  ne'er  withstood, 
Though  small  his  pleasure  to  do  good. 
As  the  corselet  ofif  he  took, 
204 


I 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

The  dwarf  espied  the  Mighty  Book! 

Much  he  marvelled  a  knight  of  pride 

Like  a  book-bosomed  priest  should  ride:  * 

He  thought  not  to  search  or  staunch  the  wound 

Until  the  secret  he  had  found. 

IX 

The  iron  band,  the  iron  clasp, 

Resisted  long  the  elfin  grasp; 

For  when  the  first  he  had  undone, 

It  closed  as  he  the  next  begun. 

Those  iron  clasps,  that  iron  band. 

Would  not  yield  to  unchristened  hand 

Till  he  smeared  the  cover  o'er 

With  the  Borderer's  curdled  gore; 

A  moment  then  the  volume  spread, 

And  one  short  spell  therein  he  read. 

It  had  much  of  glamour  might, 

Could  make  a  ladye  seem  a  knight, 

The  cobwebs  on  a  dungeon  wall 

Seem  tapestry  in  lordly  hall, 

A  nutshell  seem  a  gilded  barge, 

A  sheeling  seem  a  palace  large. 

And  youth  seem  age,  and  age  seem  youth  — 

All  was  delusion,  nought  was  truth. ^ 

»  See  Note  84.  »  See  Note  85. 

205 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

X 

He  had  not  read  another  spell, 
When  on  his  cheek  a  buffet  fell, 
So  fierce,  it  stretched  him  on  the  plain 
Beside  the  wounded  Deloraine. 
From  the  ground  he  rose  dismayed, 
And  shook  his  huge  and  matted  head; 
One  word  he  muttered  and  no  more, 
*  Man  of  age,  thou  smitest  sore ! ' 
No  more  the  elfin  page  durst  try 
Into  the  wondrous  book  to  pry; 
The  clasps,  though  smeared  with  Christian  gore, 
Shut  faster  than  they  were  before. 
He  hid  it  underneath  his  cloak.  — 
Now,  if  you  ask  who  gave  the  stroke, 
I  cannot  tell,  so  mot  I  thrive; 
It  was  not  given  by  man  alive.^ 

XI 

Unwillingly  himself  he  addressed 
To  do  his  master's  high  behest:  ■ 
He  lifted  up  the  living  corse. 
And  laid  it  on  the  weary  horse; 
He  led  him  into  Branksome  Hall 
Before  the  beards  of  the  warders  all, 

>  See  Note  86. 
206 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  each  did  after  swear  and  say 

There  only  passed  a  wain  of  hay. 

He  took  him  to  Lord  David's  tower, 

Even  to  the  Ladye's  secret  bower; 

And,  but  that  stronger  spells  were  spread, 

And  the  door  might  not  be  opened, 

He  had  laid  him  on  her  very  bed. 

Whate'er  he  did  of  gramarye 

Was  always  done  maliciously; 

He  flung  the  warrior  on  the  ground. 

And  the  blood  welled  freshly  from  the  wound. 

XII 

As  he  repassed  the  outer  court, 

He  spied  the  fair  young  child  at  sport: 

He  thought  to  train  him  to  the  wood ; 

For,  at  a  word,  be  it  understood, 

He  was  always  for  ill,  and  never  for  good. 

Seemed  to  the  boy  some  comrade  gay 

Led  him  forth  to  the  woods  to  play; 

On  the  drawbridge  the  warders  stout 

Saw  a  terrier  and  lurcher  passing  out. 

XIII 

He  led  the  boy  o'er  bank  and  fell. 

Until  they  came  to  a  woodland  brook; 
207 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

The  running  stream  dissolved  the  spell,  ^ 

And  his  own  elfish  shape  he  took. 
Could  he  have  had  his  pleasure  vilde, 
He  had  crippled  the  joints  of  the  noble  child, 
Or,  with  his  fingers  long  and  lean, 
Had  strangled  him  in  fiendish  spleen: 
But  his  awful  mother  he  had  in  dread, 
And  also  his  power  was  limited ; 
So  he  but  scowled  on  the  startled  child, 
And  darted  through  the  forest  wild; 
The  woodland  brook  he  bounding  crossed, 
And  laughed,  and  shouted,  'Lost!  lost!  lost!' 

XIV 

'  Full  sore  amazed  at  the  wondrous  change, 

And  frightened,  as  a  child  might  be, 
At  the  wild  yell  and  visage  strange. 

And  the  dark  words  of  gramarye, 
The  child,  amidst  the  forest  bower, 
Stood  rooted  like  a  lily  flower; 
And  when  at  length,  with  trembling  pace, 

He  sought  to  find  where  Branksome  lay, 
He  feared  to  see  that  grisly  face 

Glare  from  some  thicket  on  his  way. 
Thus,  starting  oft,  he  journeyed  on, 
And  deeper  in  the  wood  is  gone,  — 

>  See  Note  87. 
208 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

For  aye  the  more  he  sought  his  way, 
The  farther  still  he  went  astray,  — 
Until  he  heard  the  mountains  round 
Ring  to  the  baying  of  a  hound. 

XV 

And  hark !  and  hark !  the  deep-mouthed  bark 

Comes  nigher  still  and  nigher; 
Bursts  on  the  path  a  dark  bloodhound, 
His  tawny  muzzle  tracked  the  ground, 

And  his  red  eye  shot  fire. 
Soon  as  the  wildered  child  saw  he. 
He  flew  at  him  right  furiouslie. 
I  ween  you  would  have  seen  with  joy 
The  bearing  of  the  gallant  boy. 
When,  worthy  of  his  noble  sire, 
His  wet  cheek  glowed  'twixt  fear  and  ire! 
He  faced  the  bloodhound  manfully, 
And  held  his  little  bat  on  high ; 
So  fierce  he  struck,  the  dog,  afraid, 
At  cautious  distance  hoarsely  bayed, 

But  still  in  act  to  spring; 
When  dashed  an  archer  through  the  glade. 
And  when  he  saw  the  hound  was  stayed. 

He  drew  his  tough  bowstring; 
But  a  rough  voice  cried,  'Shoot  not,  hoy! 
Ho!  shoot  not,  Edward,  —  't  is  a  boy!' 
40  209 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XVI 

The  speaker  issued  from  the  wood, 
And  checked  his  fellow's  surly  mood, 

And  quelled  the  ban-dog's  ire: 
He  was  an  English  yeoman  good 

And  born  in  Lancashire. 
Well  could  he  hit  a  fallow-deer 

Five  hundred  feet  him  fro; 
With  hand  more  true  and  eye  more  clear 

No  archer  bended  bow. 
His  coal-black  hair,  shorn  round  and  close, 

Set  off  his  sun-burned  face; 
Old  England's  sign.  Saint  George's  cross, 

His  barret-cap  did  grace ; 
His  bugle-horn  hung  by  his  side, 
All  in  a  wolf-skin  baldric  tied ; 
And  his  short  falchion,  sharp  and  clear, 
Had  pierced  the  throat  of  many  a  deer. 

XVII 

His  kirtle,  made  of  forest  green. 

Reached  scantly  to  his  knee; 
And,  at  his  belt,  of  arrows  keen 

A  furbished  sheaf  bore  he; 
His  buckler  scarce  in  breadth  a  span, 

No  longer  fence  had  he; 

2IO 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

He  never  counted  him  a  man,^ 
Would  strike  below  the  knee: 
His  slackened  bow  was  in  his  hand, 
And  the  leash  that  was  his  bloodhound's  band. 


XVIII 

He  would  not  do  the  fair  child  harm, 
But  held  him  with  his  powerful  arm, 
That  he  might  neither  fight  nor  flee; 
For  when  the  red  cross  spied  he, 
The  boy  strove  long  and  violently. 
Now,  by  Saint  George,'  the  archer  cries, 

*  Edward,  methinks  we  have  a  prize! 
This  boy's  fair  face  and  courage  free 
Show  he  is  come  of  high  degree.' 

XIX 

*  Yes !  I  am  come  of  high  degree, 

For  I  am  the  heir  of  bold  Buccleuch; 
And,  if  thou  dost  not  set  me  free. 

False  Southron,  thou  shalt  dearly  rue! 
For  Walter  of  Harden  shall  come  with  speed, 
And  William  of  Deloraine,  good  at  need. 
And  every  Scott  from  Esk  to  Tweed ; 
And,  if  thou  dost  not  let  me  go, 

»  See  Note  88, 
211 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Despite  thy  arrows  and  thy  bow, 

I  '11  have  thee  hanged  to  feed  the  crow ! ' 

XX 

*  Gramercy  for  thy  good-will,  fair  boy! 
My  mind  was  never  set  so  high; 
But  if  thou  art  chief  of  such  a  clan, 
And  art  the  son  of  such  a  man, 
And  ever  comest  to  thy  command, 

Our  wardens  had  need  to  keep  good  order: 
My  bow  of  yew  to  a  hazel  wand. 

Thou 'It  make  them  work  upon  the  Border! 
Meantime,  be  pleased  to  come  with  me, 
For  good  Lord  Dacre  shalt  thou  see ; 
I  think  our  work  is  well  begun, 
When  we  have  taken  thy  father's  son.*' 

XXI 

Although  the  child  was  led  away. 
In  Branksome  still  he  seemed  to  stay, 
For  so  the  Dwarf  his  part  did  play; 
And,  in  the  shape  of  that  young  boy. 
He  wrought  the  castle  much  annoy. 
The  comrades  of  the  young  Buccleuch 
He  pinched  and  beat  and  overthrew; 
Nay,  some  of  them  he  well-nigh  slew. 
He  tore  Dame  Maudlin's  silken  tire, 

212 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And,  as  Sym  Hall  stood  by  the  fire, 
He  lighted  the  match  of  his  bandelier, 
And  wofully  scorched  the  hackbuteer. 
It  may  be  hardly  thought  or  said, 
The  mischief  that  the  urchin  made, 
Till  many  of  the  castle  guessed 
That  the  young  baron  was  possessed! 

XXII 

Well  I  ween  the  charm  he  held 
The  noble  Ladye  had  soon  dispelled, 
But  she  was  deeply  busied  then 
To  tend  the  wounded  Deloraine. 
Much  she  wondered  to  find  him  lie 

On  the  stone  threshold  stretched  along: 
She  thought  some  spirit  of  the  sky 

Had  done  the  bold  moss-trooper  wrong, 
Because,  despite  her  precept  dread. 
Perchance  he  in  the  book  had  read; 
But  the  broken  lance  in  his  bosom  stood. 
And  it  was  earthly  steel  and  wood. 

XXIII 

She  drew  the  splinter  from  the  wound. 

And  with  a  charm  she  staunched  the  blood. ^ 

She  bade  the  gash  be  cleansed  and  bound: 
No  longer  by  his  couch  she  stood ; 

>  See  Note  89. 
213 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

But  she  has  ta'en  the  broken  lance, 
And  washed  it  from  the  clotted  gore, 
And  salved  the  splinter  o'er  and  o'er.* 
William  of  Deloraine,  in  trance, 
Whene'er  she  turned  it  round  and  round, 
Twisted  as  if  she  galled  his  wound. 
Then  to  her  maidens  she  did  say, 
That  he  should  be  whole  man  and  sound 
Within  the  course  of  a  night  and  day. 
Full  long  she  toiled,  for  she  did  rue 
Mishap  to  friend  so  stout  and  true. 

XXIV 

So  passed  the  day  —  the  evening  fell, 

'T  was  near  the  time  of  curfew  bell ; 

The  air  was  mild,  the  wind  was  calm, 

The  stream  was  smooth,  the  dew  was  balm; 

E'en  the  rude  watchman  on  the  tower 

Enjoyed  and  blessed  the  lovely  hour. 

Far  more  fair  Margaret  loved  and  blessed 

The  hour  of  silence  and  of  rest. 

On  the  high  turret  sitting  lone. 

She  waked  at  times  the  lute's  soft  tone, 

Touched  a  wild  note,  and  all  between 

Thought  of  the  bower  of  hawthorns  green. 

Her  golden  hair  streamed  free  from  band, 

>  See  Note  90. 
214 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Her  fair  cheek  rested  on  her  hand, 
Her  blue  eyes  sought  the  west  afar, 
For  lovers  love  the  western  star. 

XXV 

Is  yon  the  star,  o'er  Penchryst  Pen, 

That  rises  slowly  to  her  ken. 

And,  spreading  broad  its  wavering  light, 

Shakes  its  loose  tresses  on  the  night? 

Is  yon  red  glare  the  western  star?  — 

O,  't  is  the  beacon-blaze  of  war ! 

Scarce  could  she  draw  her  tightened  breath, 

For  well  she  knew  the  fire  of  death ! 

XXVI 

The  warder  viewed  it  blazing  strong, 
And  blew  his  war-note  loud  and  long. 
Till,  at  the  high  and  haughty  sound. 
Rock,  wood,  and  river  rung  around. 
The  blast  alarmed  the  festal  hall. 
And  startled  forth  the  warriors  all; 
Far  downward  in  the  castle-yard 
Full  many  a  torch  and  cresset  glared ; 
And  helms  and  plumes,  confusedly  tossed, 
Were  in  the  blaze  half  seen,  half  lost; 
And  spears  in  wild  disorder  shook, 
Like  reeds  beside  a  frozen  brook. 
215 


m 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXVII 

The  seneschal,  whose  silver  hair 
Was  reddened  by  the  torches'  glare, 
Stood  in  the  midst,  with  gesture  proud, 
And  issued  forth  his  mandates  loud : 
*  On  Penchryst  glows  a  bale  of  fire,^ 
And  three  are  kindling  on  Priesthaughswire ; 

Ride  out,  ride  out. 

The  foe  to  scout! 
Mount,  mount  for  Branksome,^  every  man! 
Thou,  Todrig,  warn  the  Johnstone  clan, 

That  ever  are  true  and  stout. 
Ye  need  not  send  to  Liddesdale, 
For  when  they  see  the  blazing  bale 
Elliots  and  Armstrongs  never  fail. 
Ride,  Alton,  ride,  for  death  and  life, 
And  warn  the  warden  of  the  strife! 
Young  Gilbert,  let  our  beacon  blaze, 
Our  kin  and  clan  and  friends  to  raise ! ' ' 


XXVIII 

Fair  Margaret  from  the  turret  head 
Heard  far  below  the  coursers'  tread, 

While  loud  the  harness  rung, 
As  to  their  seats  with  clamour  dread 

The  ready  horsemen  s-prung: 

•  See  Note  91.  '  See  Note  92. 

*  •  Mount  for  Branksome'  was  the  gathering  word  of  the  Scotts. 

216 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  trampling  hoofs,  and  iron  coats, 
And  leaders'  voices  mingled  notes, 
And  out!  and  out! 
In  hasty  rout. 
The  horsemen  galloped  forth; 
Dispersing  to  the  south  to  scout. 
And  east,  and  west,  and  north, 
To  view  their  coming  enemies, 
And  warn  their  vassals  and  allies. 


XXIX 

The  ready  page  with  hurried  hand 
Awaked  the  need-fire's  slumbering  brand, 

And  ruddy  blushed  the  heaven ; 
For  a  sheet  of  flame  from  the  turret  high 
Waved  like  a  blood-flag  on  the  sky, 

All  flaring  and  uneven. 
And  soon  a  score  of  fires,  I  ween. 
From  height  and  hill  and  cliff"  were  seen, 
Each  with  warlike  tidings  fraught; 
Each  from  each  the  signal  caught; 
Each  after  each  they  glanced  to  sight, 
As  stars  arise  upon  the  night. 
They  gleamed  on  many  a  dusky  tarn. 
Haunted  by  the  lonely  earn ; 
On  many  a  cairn's  grey  pyramid,* 

»  See  Note  93. 
217 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Where  urns  of  mighty  chiefs  lie  hid; 
Till  high  Dunedin  the  blazes  saw 
From  Soltra  and  Dumpender  Law, 
And  Lothian  heard  the  Regent's  order 
That  all  should  bowne  them  for  the  Border. 

XXX 

The  livelong  night  in  Branksome  rang 

The  ceaseless  sound  of  steel ; 
The  castle-bell  with  backward  clang 

Sent  forth  the  larum  peal. 
Was  frequent  heard  the  heavy  jar, 
Where  massy  stone  and  iron  bar 
Were  piled  on  echoing  keep  and  tower, 
To  whelm  the  foe  with  deadly  shower; 
Was  frequent  heard  the  changing  guard? 
And  watchword  from  the  sleepless  wardl 
While,  wearied  by  the  endless  din. 
Bloodhound  and  ban-dog  yelled  within. 


XXXI 

The  noble  dame,  amid  the  broil, 
Shared  the  grey  seneschal's  high  toil. 
And  spoke  of  danger  with  a  smile, 
Cheered  the  young  knights,  and  council  sagv 
Held  with  the  chiefs  of  riper  age. 
No  tidings  of  the  foe  were  brought, 
218 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Nor  of  his  numbers  knew  they  aught, 
Nor  what  in  time  of  truce  he  sought. 

Some  said  that  there  were  thousands  ten ; 
And  others  weened  that  it  was  nought 

But  Leven  Clans  or  Tynedale  men, 
Who  came  to  gather  in  black-mail ; 
And  Liddesdale,  with  small  avail. 

Might  drive  them  lightly  back  agen. 
So  passed  the  anxious  night  away, 
And  welcome  was  the  peep  of  day. 


Ceased  the  high  sound  —  the  listening  throng 
Applaud  the  Master  of  the  Song; 
And  marvel  much,  in  helpless  age. 
So  hard  should  be  his  pilgrimage. 
Had  he  no  friend  —  no  daughter  dear, 
His  wandering  toil  to  share  and  cheer? 
No  son  to  be  his  father's  stay, 
And  guide  him  on  the  rugged  way? 
*  Ay,  once  he  had  —  but  he  was  dead ! '  — 
Upon  the  harp  he  stooped  his  head, 
And  busied  himself  the  strings  withal, 
To  hide  the  tear  that  fain  would  fall. 
In  solemn  measure,  soft  and  slow, 
Arose  a  father's  notes  of  woe. 


CANTO   FOURTH 

I 

Sweet  Teviot !  on  thy  silver  tide 

The  glaring  bale-fires  blaze  no  more; 
No  longer  steel-clad  warriors  ride 

Along  thy  wild  and  willowed  shore; 
Where'er  thou  wind'st  by  dale  or  hill, 
All,  all  is  peaceful,  all  is  still, 

As  if  thy  waves,  since  time  was  born, 
Since  first  they  rolled  upon  the  Tweed, 
Had  only  heard  the  shepherd's  reed. 

Nor  startled  at  the  bugle-horn. 

II 

Unlike  the  tide  of  human  time. 

Which,  though  it  change  in  ceaseless  flow, 
Retains  each  grief,  retains  each  crime, 

Its  earliest  course  was  doomed  to  know, 
And,  darker  as  it  downward  bears. 
Is  stained  with  past  and  present  tears. 

Low  as  that  tide  has  ebbed  with  me, 
It  still  reflects  to  memory's  eye 
The  hour  my  brave,  my  only  boy 

Fell  by  the  side  of  great  Dundee.^ 

•  The  Viscount  of  Dundee,  slain  in  the  battle  of  Killiecrankie. 
220 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Why,  when  the  volleying  musket  played 
Against  the  bloody  Highland  blade, 
Why  was  not  I  beside  him  laid?  — 
Enough  —  he  died  the  death  of  fame ; 
Enough  —  he  died  with  conquering  Graeme. 


Ill 

Now  over  Border  dale  and  fell 

Full  wide  and  far  was  terror  spread ; 
For  pathless  marsh  and  mountain  cell 

The  peasant  left  his  lowly  shed.^ 
The  frightened  flocks  and  herds  were  pent 
Beneath  the  peel's  rude  battlement; 
And  maids  and  matrons  dropped  the  tear, 
While  ready  warriors  seized  the  spear. 
From  Branksome's  towers  the  watchman's  eye 
Dun  wreaths  of  distant  smoke  can  spy. 
Which,  curling  in  the  rising  sun, 
Showed  Southern  ravage  was  begun. ^ 

IV 

Now  loud  the  heedful  gate- ward  cried : 

*  Prepare  ye  all  for  blows  and  blood ! 
Watt  Tinlinn,  from  the  Liddel-side,^ 
Comes  wading  through  the  flood. 

•  See  Note  94.  •  See  Note  95.  '  See  Note  96. 

221 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Full  oft  the  Tynedale  snatchers  knock 
At  his  lone  gate  and  prove  the  lock ; 
It  was  but  last  Saint  Barnabright 
They  sieged  him  a  whole  summer  night, 
But  fled  at  morning;  well  they  knew, 
In  vain  he  never  twanged  the  yew. 
Right  sharp  has  been  the  evening  shower 
That  drove  him  from  his  Liddel  tower ; 
And,  by  my  faith,'  the  gate-ward  said, 
*  I  think  't  will  prove  a  Warden-raid.' 

V 

While  thus  he  spoke,  the  bold  yeoman 
Entered  the  echoing  barbican. 
He  led  a  small  and  shaggy  nag, 
That  through  a  bog,  from  hag  to  hag, 
Could  bound  like  any  Billhope  stag.^ 
It  bore  his  wife  and  children  twain; 
A  half-clothed  serf  was  all  their  train : 
His  wife,  stout,  ruddy,  and  dark-browed, 
Of  silver  brooch  and  bracelet  proud, ^  j 
Laughed  to  her  friends  among  the  crowd. 
He  was  of  stature  passing  tall, 
But  sparely  formed  and  lean  withal: 
A  battered  morion  on  his  brow; 
A  leathern  jack,  as  fence  enow, 

'  See  Note  97.  •  See  Note  98. 

222 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

On  his  broad  shoulders  loosely  hung; 
A  Border  axe  behind  was  slung; 

His  spear,  six  Scottish  ells  in  length, 
Seemed  newly  dyed  with  gore ; 

His  shafts  and  bow,  of  wondrous  strength, 
His  hardy  partner  bore. 

VI 

Thus  to  the  Ladye  did  Tinlinn  show 

The  tidings  of  the  English  foe : 
*  Belted  Will  Howard  is  marching  here,^ 

And  hot  Lord  Dacre,  with  many  a  spear,^ 

And  all  the  German  hackbut-men' 

Who  have  long  lain  at  Askerten. 
[  They  crossed  the  Liddel  at  curfew  hour, 

And  burned  my  little  lonely  tower  — 

The  fiend  receive  their  souls  therefor ! 

It  had  not  been  burnt  this  year  and  more. 

Barnyard  and  dwelling,  blazing  bright, 

Served  to  guide  me  on  my  flight. 

But  I  was  chased  the  livelong  night. 

Black  John  of  Akeshaw  and  Fergus  Graeme 

Fast  upon  my  traces  came, 

Until  I  turned  at  Priesthaugh  Scrogg, 

And  shot  their  horses  in  the  bog. 

Slew  Fergus  with  my  lance  outright  — 

•  See  Note  99.  '  See  Note  100.  «  See  Note  loi. 

223 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

I  had  him  long  at  high  despite ; 

He  drove  my  cows  last  Pastern's  night.' 

VII 

Now  weary  scouts  from  Liddesdale, 
Fast  hurrying  in,  confirmed  the  tale; 
As  far  as  they  could  judge  by  ken, 

Three  hours  would  bring  to  Teviot's  strand 
Three  thousand  armed  Englishmen. 

Meanwhile,  full  many  a  warlike  band, 
From  Teviot,  Aill,  and  Ettrick  shade. 
Came,  in  their  chief's  defence  to  aid. 
There  was  saddling  and  mounting  in  haste, 

There  was  pricking  o'er  moor  and  lea ; 
He  that  was  last  at  the  trysting-place 

Was  but  lightly  held  of  his  gay  ladye. 

VIII 

From  fair  Saint  Mary's  silver  wave. 

From  dreary  Gamescleuch's  dusky  height. 
His  ready  lances  Thirlestane  brave 
Arrayed  beneath  a  banner  bright. 
The  tressured  fleur-de-luce  he  claims 
To  wreathe  his  shield,  since  royal  James, 
Encamped  by  Fala's  mossy  wave, 
The  proud  distinction  grateful  gave 
For  faith,  mid  feudal  jars; 
224 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

What  time,  save  Thirlestane  alone, 
Of  Scotland's  stubborn  barons  none 

Would  march  to  southern  wars ; 
And  hence,  in  fair  remembrance  worn. 
Yon  sheaf  of  spears  his  crest  has  borne ; 
Hence  his  high  motto  shines  revealed, 
'Ready,  aye  ready,'  for  the  field. ^ 

IX 

An  aged  knight,  to  danger  steeled. 

With  many  a  moss-trooper,  came  on ; 
And,  azure  in  a  golden  field. 
The  stars  and  crescent  graced  his  shield, 

Without  the  bend  of  Murdieston.^ 
Wide  lay  his  lands  round  Oakwood  Tower, 
And  wide  round  haunted  Castle-Ower; 
High  over  Borthwick's  mountain  flood 
His  wood-embosomed  mansion  stood ; 
In  the  dark  glen,  so  deep  below, 
The  herds  of  plundered  England  low, 
His  bold  retainers'  daily  food. 
And  bought  with  danger,  blows,  and  blood. 
Marauding  chief!  his  sole  delight 
The  moonlight  raid,  the  morning  fight; 
Not  even  the  Flower  of  Yarrow's  charms 
In  youth  might  tame  his  rage  for  arms; 

>  See  Note  103.  *  See  Note  103. 

40  225 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  still  in  age  he  spurned  at  rest, 
And  still  his  brows  the  helmet  pressed, 
Albeit  the  blanched  locks  below 
Were  white  as  Dinlay's  spotless  snow. 
Five  stately  warriors  drew  the  sword 

Before  their  father's  band; 
A  braver  knight  than  Harden's  lord 

Ne'er  belted  on  a  brand. 


Scotts  of  Eskdale,  a  stalwart  band/ 

Came  trooping  down  the  Todshawhill ; 
By  the  sword  they  won  their  land, 

And  by  the  sword  they  hold  it  still. 
Hearken,  Ladye,  to  the  tale 
How  thy  sires  won  fair  Eskdale. 
Earl  Morton  was  lord  of  that  valley  fair, 
The  Beattisons  were  his  vassals  there. 
The  earl  was  gentle  and  mild  of  mood, 
The  vassals  were  warlike  and  fierce  and  rude; 
High  of  heart  and  haughty  of  word. 
Little  they  recked  of  a  tame  liege-lord. 
The  earl  into  fair  Eskdale  came, 
Homage  and  seigniory  to  claim: 
Of  Gilbert  the  Galliard  a  heriot  he  sought. 
Saying,  'Give  thy  best  steed,  as  a  vassal  ought.' 

'  See  Note  104. 
226 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

*  Dear  to  me  is  my  bonny  white  steed, 
Oft  has  he  helped  me  at  pinch  of  need ; 
Lord  and  earl  though  thou  be,  I  trow, 
I  can  rein  Bucksfoot  better  than  thou.' 
Word  on  word  gave  fuel  to  fire, 
Till  so  highly  blazed  the  Beattison's  ire, . 
But  that  the  earl  the  flight  had  ta'en. 
The  vassals  there  their  lord  had  slain. 
Sore  he  plied  both  whip  and  spur, 
As  he  urged  his  steed  through  Eskdale  muir; 
And  it  fell  down  a  weary  weight. 
Just  on  the  threshold  of  Branksome  gate. 

XI 

The  earl  was  a  wrathful  man  to  see. 
Full  fain  avenged  would  he  be. 
In  haste  to  Branksome's  lord  he  spoke, 
Saying,  'Take  these  traitors  to  thy  yoke; 
For  a  cast  of  hawks,  and  a  purse  of  gold, 
All  Eskdale  I  '11  sell  thee,  to  have  and  hold : 
Beshrew  thy  heart,  of  the  Beattisons'  clan 
If  thou  leavest  on  Eske  a  landed  man! 
But  spare  Woodkerrick's  lands  alone, 
For  he  lent  me  his  horse  to  escape  upon.* 
A  glad  man  then  was  Branksome  bold, 
Down  he  flung  him  the  purse  of  gold ; 
To  Eskdale  soon  he  spurred  amain, 
227 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  with  him  five  hundred  riders  has  ta'en. 
He  left  his  merrymen  in  the  midst  of  the  hill, 
And  bade  them  hold  them  close  and  still ; 
And  alone  he  wended  to  the  plain, 
To  meet  with  the  Galliard  and  all  his  train. 
To  Gilbert  the  Galliard  thus  he  said: 
'  Know  thou  me  for  thy  liege-lord  and  head; 
Deal  not  with  me  as  with  Morton  tame. 
For  Scotts  play  best  at  the  roughest  game. 
Give  me  in  peace  my  heriot  due, 
Thy  bonny  white  steed,  or  thou  shalt  rue. 
If  my  horn  I  three  times  wind, 
Eskdale  shall  long  have  the  sound  in  mind.' 


XII 

Loudly  the  Beattison  laughed  in  scorn; 

Little  care  we  for  thy  winded  horn. 

Ne'er  shall  it  be  the  Galliard's  lot 

To  yield  his  steed  to  a  haughty  Scott. 

Wend  thou  to  Branksome  back  on  foot, 

With  rusty  spur  and  miry  boot.' 

He  blew  his  bugle  so  loud  and  hoarse 

That  the  dun  deer  started  at  far  Craikcross; 

He  blew  again  so  loud  and  clear. 

Through   the  grey  mountain-mist  there    did  lances 

appear ; 
And  the  third  blast  rang  with  such  a  din 

228 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

That  the  echoes  answered  from  Pentounlinn, 

And  all  his  riders  came  lightly  in. 

Then  had  you  seen  a  gallant  shock, 

When  saddles  were  emptied  and  lances  broke! 

For  each  scornful  word  the  Galliard  had  said 

A  Beattison  on  the  field  was  laid. 

His  own  good  sword  the  chieftain  drew, 

And  he  bore  the  Galliard  through  and  through; 

Where  the  Beattisons'  blood  mixed  with  the  rill, 

The  Galliard's  Haugh  men  call  It  still. 

The  Scotts  have  scattered  the  Beattison  clan. 

In  Eskdale  they  left  but  one  landed  man, 

The  valley  of  Eske,  from  the  mouth  to  the  source, 

Was  lost  and  won  for  that  bonny  white  horse. 

XIII 

Whitslade  the  Hawk,  and  Headshaw  came, 
And  warriors  more  than  I  may  name ; 
From  Yarrow-cleugh  to  Hindhaugh-swair, 

From  Woodhouselie  to  Chester-glen, 
Trooped  man  and  horse,  and  bow  and  spear; 

Their  gathering  word  was  Bellenden.^ 
And  better  hearts  o'er  Border  sod 
To  siege  or  rescue  never  rode. 
The  Ladye  marked  the  aids  come  in, 

And  high  her  heart  of  pride  arose ; 

>  See  Note  los. 
229 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

She  bade  her  youthful  son  attend, 
That  he  might  know  his  father's  friend, 

And  learn  to  face  his  foes: 
'The  boy  is  ripe  to  look  on  war; 

I  saw  him  draw  a  cross-bow  stiff, 
And  his  true  arrow  struck  afar 

The  raven's  nest  upon  the  cliff; 
The  red  cross  on  a  Southern  breast 
Is  broader  than  the  raven's  nest : 
Thou,  Whitslade,  shall  teach  him  his  weapon  to  wield, 
And  o'er  him  hold  his  father's  shield.' 


XIV 

Well  may  you  think  the  wily  page 

Cared  not  to  face  the  Ladye  sage. 

He  counterfeited  childish  fear, 

And  shrieked,  and  shed  full  many  a  tear, 

And  moaned,  and  plained  in  manner  wild. 

The  attendants  to  the  Ladye  told, 
Some  fairy,  sure,  had  changed  the  child, 

That  wont  to  be  so  free  and  bold. 
Then  wrathful  was  the  noble  dame; 
She  blushed  blood-red  for  very  shame : 
*  Hence !  ere  the  clan  his  faintness  view ; 
Hence  with  the  weakling  to  Buccleugh! 
Watt  Tinlinn,  thou  shalt  be  his  guide 
230 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

To  Rangleburn's  lonely  side. 

Sure,  some  fell  fiend  has  cursed  our  line, 

That  coward  should  e'er  be  son  of  mine ! ' 


XV 

A  heavy  task  Watt  Tinlinn  had, 
To  guide  the  counterfeited  lad. 
Soon  as  the  palfrey  felt  the  weight 
Of  that  ill-omened  elfish  freight, 
He  bolted,  sprung,  and  reared  amain, 
Nor  heeded  bit  nor  curb  nor  rein. 
It  cost  Watt  Tinlinn  mickle  toil 
To  drive  him  but  a  Scottish  mile; 

But  as  a  shallow  brook  they  crossed, 
The  elf,  amid  the  running  stream. 
His  figure  changed,  like  form  in  dream, 

And  fled,  and  shouted,  'Lost!  lost!  lost!' 
Full  fast  the  urchin  ran  and  laughed, 
But  faster  still  a  cloth-yard  shaft 
Whistled  from  startled  Tinlinn's  yew. 
And  pierced  his  shoulder  through  and  through. 
Although  the  imp  might  not  be  slain. 
And  though  the  wound  soon  healed  again, 
Yet,  as  he  ran,  he  yelled  for  pain; 
And  Watt  of  Tinlinn,  much  aghast, 
Rode  back  to  Branksome  fiery  fast. 
231 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XVI 
Soon  on  the  hill's  steep  verge  he  stood, 
That  looks  o'er  Branksome's  towers  and  wood; 
And  martial  murmurs  from  below 
Proclaimed  the  approaching  Southern  foe. 
Through  the  dark  wood,  in  mingled  tone, 
Were  border  pipes  and  bugles  blown; 
The  coursers'  neighing  he  could  ken, 
A  measured  tread  of  marching  men ; 
While  broke  at  times  the  solemn  hum, 
The  Almayn's  sullen  kettle-drum; 
And  banners  tall,  of  crimson  sheen, 

Above  the  copse  appear; 
And,  glistening  through  the  hawthorns  green, 

Shine  helm  and  shield  and  spear. 


I 


XVII 

Light  forayers  first,  to  view  the  ground, 
Spurred  their  fleet  coursers  loosely  round; 
Behind,  in  close  array,  and  fast, 

The  Kendal  archers,  all  in  green, 
Obedient  to  the  bugle  blast. 

Advancing  from  the  wood  were  seen. 
To  back  and  guard  the  archer  band. 
Lord  Caere's  billmen  were  at  hand; 
A  hardy  race,  on  Irthing  bred, 
With  kirtles  white  and  crosses  red, 
u        232 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Arrayed  beneath  the  banner  tall 

That  streamed  o'er  Acre's  conquered  wall; 

And  minstrels,  as  they  marched  in  order, 

Played,  'Noble  Lord  Dacre,  he  dwells  on  the  Border.' 

XVIII 

Behind  the  English  bill  and  bow 
The  mercenaries,  firm  and  slow. 

Moved  on  to  fight  in  dark  array, 
By  Conrad  led  of  Wolfenstein, 
Who  brought  the  band  from  distant  Rhine, 

And  sold  their  blood  for  foreign  pay. 
The  camp  their  home,  their  law  the  sword, 
They  knew  no  country,  owned  no  lord :  ^ 
They  were  not  armed  like  England's  sons. 
But  bore  the  levin-darting  guns; 
Buff  coats,  all  frounced  and  broidered  o'er, 
And  morsing-horns  and  scarfs  they  wore; 
Each  better  knee  was  bared,  to  aid 
The  warriors  in  the  escalade; 
All  as  they  marched,  in  rugged  tongue 
Songs  of  Teutonic  feuds  they  sung. 

XIX 

But  louder  still  the  clamour  grew, 
And  louder  still  the  minstrels  blew, 

>  See  Note  io6. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

When,  from  beneath  the  greenwood  tree, 

Rode  forth  Lord  Howard's  chivalry ; 

His  men-at-arms,  with  glaive  and  spear, 

Brought  up  the  battle's  glittering  rear. 

There  many  a  youthful  knight,  full  keen 

To  gain  his  spurs,  in  arms  was  seen, 

With  favour  in  his  crest,  or  glove. 

Memorial  of  his  ladye-love. 

So  rode  they  forth  in  fair  array. 

Till  full  their  lengthened  lines  display; 

Then  called  a  halt,  and  made  a  stand. 

And  cried,  'Saint  George  for  merry  England!' 

XX 

Now  every  English  eye  intent 
On  Branksome's  armed  towers  was  bent; 
So  near  they  were  that  they  might  know 
The  straining  harsh  of  each  cross-bow; 
On  battlement  and  bartizan 
Gleamed  axe  and  spear  and  partisan ; 
Falcon  and  culver  on  each  tower 
Stood  prompt  their  deadly  hail  to  shower; 
And  flashing  armour  frequent  broke 
From  eddying  whirls  of  sable  smoke, 
Where  upon  tower  and  turret  head 
The  seething  pitch  and  molten  lead 
Reeked  like  a  witch's  caldron  red. 
234 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

While  yet  they  gaze,  the  bridges  fall, 
The  wicket  opes,  and  from  the  wall 
Rides  forth  the  hoary  seneschal. 

XXI 

Armed  he  rode,  all  save  the  head, 

His  white  beard  o'er  his  breastplate  spread; 

Unbroke  by  age,  erect  his  seat, 

He  ruled  his  eager  courser's  gait, 

Forced  him  with  chastened  fire  to  prance, 

And,  high  curvetting,  slow  advance: 

In  sign  of  truce,  his  better  hand 

Displayed  a  peeled  willow  wand; 

His  squire,  attending  in  the  rear, 

Bore  high  a  gauntlet  on  his  spear.* 

When  they  espied  him  riding  out. 

Lord  Howard  and  Lord  Dacre  stout 

Sped  to  the  front  of  their  array, 

To  hear  what  this  old  knight  should  say. 

XXII 

*  Ye  English  warden  lords,  of  you 
Demands  the  ladye  of  Buccleuch, 
Why,  'gainst  the  truce  of  Border  tide, 
In  hostile  guise  ye  dare  to  ride, 
With  Kendal  bow  and  Gilsland  brand, 

'  See  Note  107. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  all  yon  mercenary  band, 
Upon  the  bounds  of  fair  Scotland? 
My  Ladye  reads  you  swith  return; 
And,  if  but  one  poor  straw  you  burn, 
Or  do  our  towers  so  much  molest 
As  scare  one  swallow  from  her  nest. 
Saint  Mary !  but  we'll  light  a  brand 
Shall  warm  your  hearths  in  Cumberland.* 

XXIII 

A  wrathful  man  was  Dacre's  lord. 
But  calmer  Howard  took  the  word : 
*  May 't  please  thy  dame,  Sir  Seneschal, 
To  seek  the  castle's  outward  wall. 
Our  pursuivant-at-arms  shall  show 
Both  why  we  came  and  when  we  go.* 
The  message  sped,  the  noble  dame 
To  the  wall's  outward  circle  came; 
Each  chief  around  leaned  on  his  spear, 
To  see  the  pursuivant  appear. 
All  in  Lord  Howard's  livery  dressed, 
The  lion  argent  decked  his  breast; 
He  led  a  boy  of  blooming  hue  — 
O  sight  to  meet  a  mother's  view! 
It  was  the  heir  of  great  Buccleuch. 
Obeisance  meet  the  herald  made. 
And  this  his  master's  will  he  said : 
236 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXIV 

*  It  irks,  high  dame,  my  noble  lords, 
'Gainst  ladye  fair  to  draw  their  swords; 
But  yet  they  may  not  tamely  see, 
All  through  the  Western  Wardenry, 
Your  law-contemning  kinsmen  ride, 
And  burn  and  spoil  the  Border-side; 
And  ill  beseems  your  rank  and  birth 
To  make  your  towers  a  flemens-firth. 
We  claim  from  thee  William  of  Deloraine, 
That  he  may  suffer  march-treason  pain.^ 
It  was  but  last  Saint  Cuthbert's  even 
He  pricked  to  Stapleton  on  Leven, 
Harried  the  lands  of  Richard  Musgrave, 
And  slew  his  brother  by  dint  of  glaive. 
Then,  since  a  lone  and  widowed  dame 
These  restless  riders  may  not  tame, 
Either  receive  within  thy  towers 
Two  hundred  of  my  master's  powers, 
Or  straight  they  sound  their  warrison, 
And  storm  and  spoil  thy  garrison; 
And  this  fair  boy,  to  London  led. 
Shall  good  King  Edward's  page  be  bred.' 

»  See  Note  io8. 


237 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXV 

He  ceased  —  and  loud  the  boy  did  cry, 
And  stretched  his  httle  arms  on  high, 
Implored  for  aid  each  well-known  face, 
And  strove  to  seek  the  dame's  embrace. 
A  moment  changed  that  Ladye's  cheer. 
Gushed  to  her  eye  the  unbidden  tear; 
She  gazed  upon  the  leaders  round, 
And  dark  and  sad  each  warrior  frowned ; 
Then  deep  within  her  sobbing  breast 
She  locked  the  struggling  sigh  to  rest. 
Unaltered  and  collected  stood. 
And  thus  replied  in  dauntless  mood : 

XXVI 

'Say  to  your  lords  of  high  emprise 
Who  war  on  women  and  on  boys. 
That  either  William  of  Deloraine 
Will  cleanse  him  by  oath  of  march-treason  stain,* 
Or  else  he  will  the  combat  take 
'Gainst  Musgrave  for  his  honour's  sake. 
No  knight  in  Cumberland  so  good 
But  William  may  count  with  him  kin  and  blood. 
Knighthood  he  took  of  Douglas'  sword, ^ 
When  English  blood  swelled  Ancram  ford ;  ' 

'  See  Note  109.  '  See  Note  no.  «  See  Note  in. 

238 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  but  Lord  Dacre's  steed  was  wight, 
And  bare  him  ably  in  the  flight, 
Himself  had  seen  him  dubbed  a  knight. 
For  the  young  heir  of  Branksome's  line, 
God  be  his  aid,  and  God  be  mine! 
Through  me  no  friend  shall  meet  his  doom ; 
Here,  while  I  live,  no  foe  finds  room. 
Then,  if  thy  lords  their  purpose  urge, 

Take  our  defiance  loud  and  high ; 
Our  slogan  is  their  lyke-wake  dirge, 

Our  moat  the  grave  where  they  shall  lie.' 

XXVII 

Proud  she  looked  round,  applause  to  claim  — 
Then  lightened  Thirlestane's  eye  of  flame; 

His  bugle  Wat  of  Harden  blew ; 
Pensils  and  pennons  wide  were  flung, 
To  heaven  the  Border  slogan  rung, 

'Saint  Mary  for  the  young  Buccleuch!' 
The  English  war-cry  answered  wide. 

And  forward  bent  each  Southern  spear; 
Each  Kendal  archer  made  a  stride. 

And  drew  the  bowstring  to  his  ear ; 
Each  minstrel's  war-note  loud  was  blown;  — 
But,  ere  a  grey-goose  shaft  had  flown, 

A  horseman  galloped  from  the  rear. 


239 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXVIII 

'Ah!  noble  lords!'  he  breathless  said, 
'What  treason  has  your  march  betrayed? 
What  make  you  here  from  aid  so  far, 
Before  you  walls,  around  you  war? 
Your  foemen  triumph  in  the  thought 
That  in  the  toils  the  lion 's  caught. 
Already  on  dark  Ruberslaw 
The  Douglas  holds  his  weapon-schaw; 
The  lances,  waving  in  his  train, 
Clothe  the  dun  heath  like  autumn  grain ; 
And  on  the  Liddel's  northern  strand. 
To  bar  retreat  to  Cumberland, 
Lord  Maxwell  ranks  his  merrymen  good 
Beneath  the  eagle  and  the  rood ; 
And  Jed  wood,  Eske,  and  Teviotdale 

Have  to  proud  Angus  come; 
And  all  the  Merse  and  Lauderdale 
Have  risen  with  haughty  Home. 
An  exile  from  Northumberland, 

In  Liddesdale  I  've  wandered  long, 
But  still  my  heart  was  with  merry  England, 

And  cannot  brook  my  country's  wrong; 
And  hard  I  've  spurred  all  night,  to  show 
The  mustering  of  the  coming  foe.' 


240 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXIX 

*  And  let  them  come ! '  fierce  Dacre  cried ; 

*  For  soon  yon  crest,  my  father's  pride, 
That  swept  the  shores  of  Judah's  sea, 
And  waved  in  gales  of  Galilee, 

From  Branksome's  highest  towers  displayed, 
Shall  mock  the  rescue's  lingering  aid ! 
Level  each  harquebuss  on  row; 
Draw,  merry  archers,  draw  the  bow; 
Up,  billmen,  to  the  walls,  and  cry, 
Dacre  for  England,  win  or  die!' 

XXX 

*  Yet  hear,'  quoth  Howard,  'calmly  hear, 
Nor  deem  my  words  the  words  of  fear : 
For  who,  in  field  or  foray  slack, 

Saw  the  Blanche  Lion  e'er  fall  back?  ^ 

But  thus  to  risk  our  Border  flower 

In  strife  against  a  kingdom's  power, 

Ten  thousand  Scots  'gainst  thousands  three, 

Certes,  were  desperate  policy. 

Nay,  take  the  terms  the  Ladye  made 

Ere  conscious  of  the  advancing  aid : 

Let  Musgrave  meet  fierce  Deloraine  ^ 

In  single  fight,  and  if  he  gain, 

*  See  Note  112.  «  See  Note  113. 

46  241 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  IMINSTREL 

He  gains  for  us;  but  if  he's  crossed, 
'T  is  but  a  single  warrior  lost : 
The  rest,  retreating  as  they  came, 
Avoid  defeat  and  death  and  shame.' 

XXXI 

111  could  the  haughty  Dacre  brook 
His  brother  warden's  sage  rebuke; 
And  yet  his  forward  step  he  stayed, 
And  slow  and  sullenly  obeyed. 
But  ne'er  again  the  Border  side 
Did  these  two  lords  in  friendship  ride ; 
And  this  slight  discontent,  men  say, 
Cost  blood  upon  another  day. 

XXXII 

The  pursuivant-at-arms  again 
Before  the  castle  took  his  stand; 

His  trumpet  called  with  parleying  strain 
The  leaders  of  the  Scottish  band ; 

And  he  defied,  in  Musgrave's  right, 

Stout  Deloraine  to  single  fight. 

A  gauntlet  at  their  feet  he  laid. 

And  thus  the  terms  of  fight  he  said: 
*  If  in  the  lists  good  Musgrave's  sword 
Vanquish  the  Knight  of  Deloraine, 

Your  youthful  chieftain,  Branksome's  lord, 
242 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Shall  hostage  for  his  clan  remain; 
If  Deloraine  foil  good  Musgrave, 
The  boy  his  liberty  shall  have. 

Howe'er  it  falls,  the  English  band, 
Unharming  Scots,  by  Scots  unharmed, 
In  peaceful  march,  like  men  unarmed, 

Shall  straight  retreat  to  Cumberland.' 

XXXIII 

Unconscious  of  the  near  relief, 

The  proffer  pleased  each  Scottish  chief, 

Though  much  the  Ladye  sage  gainsaid; 
For  though  their  hearts  were  brave  and  true, 
From  Jed  wood's  recent  sack  they  knew 

How  tardy  was  the  Regent's  aid : 
And  you  may  guess  the  noble  dame 

Durst  not  the  secret  prescience  own. 
Sprung  from  the  art  she  might  not  name, 

By  which  the  coming  help  was  known. 
Closed  was  the  compact,  and  agreed 
That  lists  should  be  enclosed  with  speed 

Beneath  the  castle  on  a  lawn : 
They  fixed  the  morrow  for  the  strife, 
On  foot,  with  Scottish  axe  and  knife, 

At  the  fourth  hour  from  peep  of  dawn ; 
When  Deloraine,  from  sickness  freed, 
Or  else  a  champion  in  his  stead, 
243 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Should  for  himself  and  chieftain  stand 
Against  stout  Musgrave,  hand  to  hand. 

XXXIV 

I  know  right  well  that  in  their  lay 
Full  many  minstrels  sing  and  say 

Such  combat  should  be  made  on  horse, 
On  foaming  steed,  in  full  career. 
With  brand  to  aid,  whenas  the  spear 

Should  shiver  in  the  course : 
But  he,  the  jovial  harper,^  taught 
Me,  yet  a  youth,  how  it  was  fought, 

In  guise  which  now  I  say; 
He  knew  each  ordinance  and  clause 
Of  Black  Lord  Archibald's  battle-laws,^ 

In  the  old  Douglas'  day. 
He  brooked  not,  he,  that  scoffing  tongue 
Should  tax  his  minstrelsy  with  wrong, 

Or  call  his  song  untrue: 
For  this,  when  they  the  goblet  plied. 
And  such  rude  taunt  had  chafed  his  pride, 

The  bard  of  Reull  he  slew. 
On  Teviot's  side  in  fight  they  stood. 
And  tuneful  hands  were  stained  with  blood. 
Where  still  the  thorn's  white  branches  wave, 
Memorial  o'er  his  rival's  grave. 

>  See  Note  114.  »  See  Note  115. 

244 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXXV 

Why  should  I  tell  the  rigid  doom 
That  dragged  my  master  to  his  tomb; 

How  Ousenam's  maidens  tore  their  hair. 
Wept  till  their  eyes  were  dead  and  dim, 
And  wrung  their  hands  for  love  of  him 

Who  died  at  Jedwood  Air? 
He  died !  —  his  scholars,  one  by  one, 
To  the  cold  silent  grave  are  gone; 
And  I,  alas!  survive  alone. 
To  muse  o'er  rivalries  of  yore. 
And  grieve  that  I  shall  hear  no  more 
The  strains,  with  envy  heard  before; 
For,  with  my  minstrel  brethren  fled, 
My  jealousy  of  song  is  dead. 


He  paused :  the  listening  dames  again 
Applaud  the  hoary  Minstrel's  strain. 
With  many  a  word  of  kindly  cheer,  — 
In  pity  half,  and  half  sincere,  — 
Marvelled  the  Duchess  how  so  well 
His  legendary  song  could  tell 
Of  ancient  deeds,  so  long  forgot ; 
Of  feuds,  whose  memory  was  not ; 
Of  forests,  now  laid  waste  and  bare ; 
Of  towers,  which  harbour  now  the  hare ; 
245 


THE    LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Of  manners,  long  since  changed  and  gone; 
Of  chiefs,  who  under  their  grey  stone 
So  long  had  slept  that  fickle  Fame 
Had  blotted  from  her  rolls  their  name, 
And  twined  round  some  new  minion's  head 
The  fading  wreath  for  which  they  bled : 
In  sooth,  't  was  strange  this  old  man's  verse 
Could  call  them  from  their  marble  hearse. 

The  harper  smiled,  well  pleased;  for  ne'er 
Was  flattery  lost  on  poet's  ear. 
A  simple  race !  they  waste  their  toil 
For  the  vain  tribute  of  a  smile ; 
E'en  when  in  age  their  flame  expires, 
Her  dulcet  breath  can  fan  its  fires: 
Their  drooping  fancy  wakes  at  praise, 
And  strives  to  trim  the  short-lived  blaze. 

Smiled  then,  well  pleased,  the  aged  man, 
And  thus  his  tale  continued  ran. 


CANTO  FIFTH 

I 

Call  it  not  vain :  —  they  do  not  err. 
Who  say  that  when  the  poet  dies 

Mute  Nature  mourns  her  worshipper 
And  celebrates  his  obsequies; 

Who  say  tall  cliff  and  cavern  lone 

For  the  departed  bard  make  moan ; 

That  mountains  weep  in  crystal  rill ; 

That  flowers  in  tears  of  balm  distil ; 

Through  his  loved  groves  that  breezes  sigh, 

And  oaks  in  deeper  groan  reply, 

And  rivers  teach  their  rushing  wave 

To  murmur  dirges  round  his  grave. 

II 

Not  that,  in  sooth,  o'er  mortal  urn 
Those  things  inanimate  can  mourn. 
But  that  the  stream,  the  wood,  the  gale, 
Is  vocal  with  the  plaintive  wail 
Of  those  who,  else  forgotten  long, 
Lived  in  the  poet's  faithful  song. 
And,  with  the  poet's  parting  breath. 
Whose  memory  feels  a  second  death. 
The  maid's  pale  shade,  who  wails  her  lot, 
247 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

That  love,  true  love,  should  be  forgot, 

From  rose  and  hawthorn  shakes  the  tear 

Upon  the  gentle  minstrel's  bier: 

The  phantom  knight,  his  glory  fled, 

Mourns  o'er  the  field  he  heaped  with  dead, 

Mounts  the  wild  blast  that  sweeps  amain 

And  shrieks  along  the  battle-plain; 

The  chief,  whose  antique  crownlet  long 

Still  sparkled  in  the  feudal  song, 

Now,  from  the  mountain's  misty  throne, 

Sees,  in  the  thanedom  once  his  own. 

His  ashes  undistinguished  lie, 

His  place,  his  power,  his  memory  die; 

His  groans  the  lonely  caverns  fill, 

His  tears  of  rage  impel  the  rill; 

All  mourn  the  minstrel's  harp  unstrung, 

Their  name  unknown,  their  praise  unsung. 

Ill 

Scarcely  the  hot  assault  was  stayed. 
The  terms  of  truce  were  scarcely  made. 
When  they  could  spy,  from  Branksome's  towers, 
The  advancing  march  of  martial  powers. 
Thick  clouds  of  dust  afar  appeared. 
And  trampling  steeds  were  faintly  heard ; 
Bright  spears  above  the  columns  dun 
Glanced  momentary  to  the  sun; 
248 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  feudal  banners  fair  displayed 

The  bands  that  moved  to  Branksome's  aid. 

IV 

Vails  not  to  tell  each  hardy  clan, 

From  the  fair  Middle  Marches  came; 
The  Bloody  Heart  blazed  in  the  van, 

Announcing  Douglas,  dreaded  name!  ^ 
Vails  not  to  tell  what  steeds  did  spurn, 
Where  the  Seven  Spears  of  Wedderburne  * 

Their  men  in  battle-order  set. 
And  Swinton  laid  the  lance  in  rest 
That  tamed  of  yore  the  sparkling  crest 

Of  Clarence's  Plantagenet.^ 
Nor  list  I  say  what  hundreds  more. 
From  the  rich  Merse  and  Lammermore, 
And  Tweed's  fair  borders,  to  the  war, 
Beneath  the  crest  of  old  Dunbar 

And  Hepburn's  mingled  banners,  come 
Down  the  steep  mountain  glittering  far. 

And  shouting  still,  'A  Home!  a  Home!'  ^ 

V 

Now  squire  and  knight,  from  Branksome  sent, 
On  many  a  courteous  message  went : 
To  every  chief  and  lord  they  paid 

>  See  Note  ii6.       •  See  Note  117.        •  See  Note  118.       *  See  Note  119. 

249 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Meet  thanks  for  prompt  and  powerful  aid, 
And  told  them  how  a  truce  was  made, 
And  how  a  day  of  fight  was  ta'en 
'Twixt  Musgrave  and  stout  Deloraine; 

And  how  the  Ladye  prayed  them  dear 
That  all  would  stay  the  fight  to  see, 
And  deign,  in  love  and  courtesy, 

To  taste  of  Branksome  cheer. 
Nor,  while  they  bade  to  feast  each  Scot, 
Were  England's  noble  lords  forgot. 
Himself,  the  hoary  seneschal. 
Rode  forth,  in  seemly  terms  to  call 
Those  gallant  foes  to  Branksome  Hall. 
Accepted  Howard,  than  whom  knight 
Was  never  dubbed,  more  bold  in  fight, 
Nor,  when  from  war  and  armour  free. 
More  famed  for  stately  courtesy; 
But  angry  Dacre  rather  chose 
In  his  pavilion  to  repose. 

VI 

Now,  noble  dame,  perchance  you  ask 
How  these  two  hostile  armies  met. 

Deeming  it  were  no  easy  task 
To  keep  the  truce  which  here  was  set ; 

Where  martial  spirits,  all  on  fire, 

Breathed  only  blood  and  mortal  ire. 
250 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

By  mutual  inroads,  mutual  blows, 
By  habit,  and  by  nation,  foes, 

They  met  on  Teviot's  strand ; 
They  met  and  sate  them  mingled  down. 
Without  a  threat,  without  a  frown. 

As  brothers  meet  in  foreign  land : 
The  hands,  the  spear  that  lately  grasped,  V 

Still  in  the  mailed  gauntlet  clasped. 

Were  interchanged  in  greeting  dear; 
Visors  were  raised  and  faces  shown, 
And  many  a  friend,  to  friend  made  known. 

Partook  of  social  cheer. 
Some  drove  the  jolly  bowl  about; 

With  dice  and  draughts  some  chased  the  day; 
And  some,  with  many  a  merry  shout, 
In  riot,  revelry,  and  rout, 

Pursued  the  football  play.^ 

VII 

Yet,  be  it  known,  had  bugles  blown 

Or  sign  of  war  been  seen, 
Those  bands,  so  fair  together  ranged, 
Those  hands,  so  frankly  interchanged, 

Had  dyed  with  gore  the  green: 
The  merry  shout  by  Teviot-side 
Had  sunk  in  war-cries  wild  and  wide, 

>  See  Note  120. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  in  the  groan  of  death ; 
And  whingers,  now  in  friendship  bare, 
The  social  meal  to  part  and  share, 

Had  found  a  bloody  sheath. 
'Twixt  truce  and  war,  such  sudden  change 
Was  not  infrequent,  nor  held  strange, 

In  the  old  Border-day;  ^ 
But  yet  on  Branksome's  towers  and  town, 
In  peaceful  merriment,  sunk  down 

The  sun's  declining  ray. 

VIII 

The  blithesome  signs  of  wassail  gay 
Decayed  not  with  the  dying  day; 
Soon  through  the  latticed  windows  tall 
Of  lofty  Branksome's  lordly  hall, 
Divided  square  by  shafts  of  stone, 
Huge  flakes  of  ruddy  lustre  shone; 
Nor  less  the  gilded  rafters  rang 
With  merry  harp  and  beakers'  clang; 
And  frequent,  on  the  darkening  plain, 

Loud  hollo,  whoop,  or  whistle  ran, 
As  bands,  their  stragglers  to  regain. 

Give  the  shrill  watchword  of  their  clan ;  * 
And  revellers,  o'er  their  bowls,  proclaim 
Douglas'  or  Dacre's  conquering  name. 

1  See  Note  121.  »  See  Note  122. 

252 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

IX 

Less  frequent  heard,  and  fainter  still, 

At  length  the  various  clamours  died, 
And  you  might  hear  from  Branksome  hill 

No  sound  but  Teviot's  rushing  tide; 
Save  when  the  changing  sentinel 
The  challenge  of  his  watch  could  tell ; 
And  save  where,  through  the  dark  profound. 
The  clanging  axe  and  hammer's  sound 

Rung  from  the  nether  lawn ; 
For  many  a  busy  hand  toiled  there, 
Strong  pales  to  shape  and  beams  to  square, 
The  lists'  dread  barriers  to  prepare 

Against  the  morrow's  dawn. 

X 

Margaret  from  hall  did  soon  retreat, 

Despite  the  dame's  reproving  eye; 
Nor  marked  she,  as  she  left  her  seat, 

Full  many  a  stifled  sigh : 
For  many  a  noble  warrior  strove 
To  win  the  Flower  of  Teviot's  love, 

And  many  a  bold  ally. 
With  throbbing  head  and  anxious  heart,i 
All  in  her  lonely  bower  apart, 

In  broken  sleep  she  lay. 

253 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

By  times,  from  silken  couch  she  rose; 
While  yet  the  bannered  hosts  repose, 

She  viewed  the  dawning  day: 
Of  all  the  hundreds  sunk  to  rest, 
First  woke  the  loveliest  and  the  best. 

XI 

She  gazed  upon  the  inner  court, ' 

Which  in  the  tower's  tall  shadow  lay, 
Where  coursers'  clang  and  stamp  and  snort 

Had  rung  the  livelong  yesterday: 
Now  still  as  death;  till  stalking  slow,  — 

The  jingling  spurs  announced  his  tread,  — 
A  stately  warrior  passed  below; 

But  when  he  raised  his  plumed  head  — 
Blessed  Mary!  can  it  be?  — 
Secure,  as  if  in  Ousenam  bowers, 
He  walks  through  Branksome's  hostile  towers, 

With  fearless  step  and  free. 
She  dared  not  sign,  she  dared  not  speak  — 
O,  if  one  page's  slumbers  break, 

His  blood  the  price  must  pay! 
Not  all  the  pearls  Queen  Mary  wears, 
Not  Margaret's  yet  more  precious  tears, . 

Shall  buy  his  life  a  day. 


2S4 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XII 

Yet  was  his  hazard  small ;  for  well 
You  may  bethink  you  of  the  spell 

Of  that  sly  urchin  page : 
This  to  his  lord  he  did  impart, 
And  made  him  seem,  by  glamour  art, 

A  knight  from  Hermitage. 
Unchallenged,  thus,  the  warder's  post. 
The  court,  unchallenged,  thus  he  crossed, 

For  all  the  vassalage; 
But  O,  what  magic's  quaint  disguise 
Could  blind  fair  Margaret's  azure  eyes! 

She  started  from  her  seat; 
While  with  surprise  and  fear  she  strove. 
And  both  could  scarcely  master  love  — 

Lord  Henry 's  at  her  feet. 

XIII 

Oft  have  I  mused  what  purpose  bad 
That  foul  malicious  urchin  had 

To  bring  this  meeting  round, 
For  happy  love  's  a  heavenly  sight, 
And  by  a  vile  malignant  sprite 

In  such  no  joy  is  found; 
And  oft  I  've  deemed,  perchance  he  thought 
Their  erring  passion  might  have  wrought 

Sorrow  and  sin  and  shame, 
255 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  death  to  Cranstoun's  gallant  Knight, 
And  to  the  gentle  Ladye  bright 

Disgrace  and  loss  of  fame. 
But  earthly  spirit  could  not  tell 
The  heart  of  them  that  loved  so  well. 
True  love 's  the  gift  which  God  has  given 
To  man  alone  beneath  the  heaven: 
It  is  not  fantasy's  hot  fire, 
Whose  wishes  soon  as  granted  fly; 
It  liveth  not  in  fierce  desire, 
With  dead  desire  it  doth  not  die; 
It  is  the  secret  sympathy, 
The  silver  link,  the  silken  tie, 
Which  heart  to  heart,  and  mind  to  mind. 
In  body  and  in  soul  can  bind.  — 
Now  leave  we  Margaret  and  her  knight, 
To  tell  you  of  the  approaching  fight. 

XIV 

Their  warning  blasts  the  bugles  blew, 

The  pipe's  shrill  port  aroused  each  clan; 
In  haste  the  deadly  strife  to  view. 
The  trooping  warriors  eager  ran : 
Thick  round  the  lists  their  lances  stood. 
Like  blasted  pines  in  Ettrick  wood ; 
To  Branksome  many  a  look  they  threw. 
The  combatants'  approach  to  view, 
256 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  bandied  many  a  word  of  boast 
About  the  knight  each  favoured  most. 


XV 

Meantime  full  anxious  was  the  dame; 
For  now  arose  disputed  claim 
Of  who  should  fight  for  Deloraine, 
'Twixt  Harden  and  'twixt  Thirlestane. 
They  gan  to  reckon  kin  and  rent, 
And  frowning  brow  on  brow  was  bent; 

But  yet  not  long  the  strife  —  for,  lo ! 
Himself,  the  Knight  of  Deloraine, 
Strong,  as  it  seemed,  and  free  from  pain, 

In  armour  sheathed  from  top  to  toe. 
Appeared  and  craved  the  combat  due. 
The  dame  her  charm  successful  knew. 
And  the  fierce  chiefs  their  claims  withdrew. 

XVI 

When  for  the  lists  they  sought  the  plain. 
The  stately  Lad  ye 's  silken  rein 

Did  noble  Howard  hold ; 
Unarmed  by  her  side  he  walked. 
And  much  in  courteous  phrase  they  talked 

Of  feats  of  arms  of  old. 
Costly  his  garb  —  his  Flemish  ruff 
46  257 


THE  LAY   OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Fell  o'er  his  doublet,  shaped  of  buff, 

With  satin  slashed  and  lined; 
Tawny  his  boot,  and  gold  his  spur, 
His  cloak  was  all  of  Poland  fur, 

His  hose  with  silver  twined ; 
His  Bilboa  blade,  by  Marchmen  felt. 
Hung  in  a  broad  and  studded  belt; 
Hence,  in  rude  phrase,  the  Borderers  still 
Called  noble  Howard  Belted  Will. 

XVII 

Behind  Lord  Howard  and  the  dame 
Fair  Margaret  on  her  palfrey  came. 

Whose  footcloth  swept  the  ground; 
White  was  her  wimple  and  her  veil, 
And  her  loose  locks  a  chaplet  pale 

Of  whitest  roses  bound ; 
The  lordly  Angus,  by  her  side, 
In  courtesy  to  cheer  her  tried; 
Without  his  aid,  her  hand  in  vain 
Had  strove  to  guide  her  broidered  rein. 
He  deemed  she  shuddered  at  the  sight 
Of  warriors  met  for  mortal  fight; 
But  cause  of  terror,  all  unguessed, 
Was  fluttering  in  her  gentle  breast. 
When,  in  their  chairs  of  crimson  placed. 
The  dame  and  she  the  barriers  graced. 
258 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XVIII 

Prize  of  the  field,  the  young  Buccleuch 
An  English  knight  led  forth  to  view; 
Scarce  rued  the  boy  his  present  plight, 
So  much  he  longed  to  see  the  fight. 
Within  the  lists  in  knightly  pride 
High  Home  and  haughty  Dacre  ride; 
Their  leading-staffs  of  steel  they  wield, 
As  marshals  of  the  mortal  field, 
While  to  each  knight  their  care  assigned 
Like  vantage  of  the  sun  and  wind. 
Then  heralds  hoarse  did  loud  proclaim, 
In  King  and  Queen  and  Warden's  name, 

That  none,  while  lasts  the  strife, 
Should  dare,  by  look  or  sign  or  word. 
Aid  to  a  champion  to  afford, 

On  peril  of  his  life ; 
And  not  a  breath  the  silence  broke 
Till  thus  the  alternate  heralds  spoke:  — ■ 

XIX 
ENGLISH   HERALD 

*  Here  standeth  Richard  of  Musgrave, 
Good  knight  and  true,  and  freely  born, 
Amends  from  Deloraine  to  crave. 
For  foul  despiteous  scathe  and  scorn. 
259 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

He  sayeth  that  William  of  Deloraine 
Is  traitor  false  by  Border  laws; 

This  with  his  sword  he  will  maintain, 
So  help  him  God  and  his  good  cause!* 

XX 

SCOTTISH   HERALD 

*  Here  standeth  William  of  Deloraine, 
Good  knight  and  true,  of  noble  strain. 
Who  sayeth  that  foul  treason's  stain, 
Since  he  bore  arms  ne'er  soiled  his  coat; 

And  that,  so  help  him  God  above! 
He  will  on  Musgrave's  body  prove 
He  lies  most  foully  in  his  throat.' 

LORD   DACRE 

*  Forward,  brave  champions,  to  the  fight! 
Sound  trumpets!' 

LORD   HOME 

'God  defend  the  right!'  — 
Then,  Teviot,  how  thine  echoes  rang. 
When  bugle-sound  and  trumpet-clang 

Let  loose  the  martial  foes, 
And  in  mid-list,  with  shield  poised  high, 
And  measured  step  and  wary  eye. 
The  combatants  did  close! 
260 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXI 

111  would  it  suit  your  gentle  ear, 

Ye  lovely  listeners,  to  hear 

How  to  the  axe  the  helms  did  sound, 

And  blood  poured  down  from  many  a  wound ; 

For  desperate  was  the  strife  and  long. 

And  either  warrior  fierce  and  strong. 

But,  were  each  dame  a  listening  knight, 

I  well  could  tell  how  warriors  fight; 

For  I  have  seen  war's  lightning  flashing, 

Seen  the  claymore  with  bayonet  clashing, 

Seen  through  red  blood  the  war-horse  dashing, 

And  scorned,  amid  the  reeling  strife. 

To  yield  a  step  for  death  or  life. 

XXII 

'T  is  done,  't  is  done !  that  fatal  blow 
Has  stretched  him  on  the  bloody  plain ; 

He  strives  to  rise  —  brave  Musgrave,  no! 
Thence  never  shalt  thou  rise  again! 

He  chokes  in  blood  —  some  friendly  hand 

Undo  the  visor's  barred  band. 

Unfix  the  gorget's  iron  clasp. 

And  give  him  room  for  life  to  gasp !  — 

O,  bootless  aid !  —  haste,  holy  friar. 

Haste,  ere  the  sinner  shall  expire! 
261 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Of  all  his  guilt  let  him  be  shriven, 

And  smooth  his  path  from  earth  to  heaven! 

XXIII 

In  haste  the  holy  friar  sped ;  — 
His  naked  foot  was  dyed  with  red, 

As  through  the  lists  he  ran ; 
Unmindful  of  the  shouts  on  high 
That  hailed  the  conqueror's  victory, 

He  raised  the  dying  man; 
Loose  waved  his  silver  beard  and  hair, 
As  o'er  him  he  kneeled  down  in  prayer ; 
And  still  the  crucifix  on  high 
He  holds  before  his  darkening  eye; 
And  still  he  bends  an  anxious  ear, 
His  faltering  penitence  to  hear; 

Still  props  him  from  the  bloody  sod. 
Still,  even  when  soul  and  body  part, 
Pours  ghostly  comfort  on  his  heart, 

And  bids  him  trust  in  God ! 
Unheard  he  prays;  —  the  death-pang's  o'er! 
Richard  of  Musgrave  breathes  no  more. 

XXIV 

As  if  exhausted  in  the  fight, 
Or  musing  o'er  the  piteous  sight. 
The  silent  victor  stands ; 
262 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

His  beaver  did  he  not  unclasp, 

Marked  not  the  shouts,  felt  not  the  grasp 

Of  gratulating  hands. 
When  lo !  strange  cries  of  wild  surprise, 
Mingled  with  seeming  terror,  rise 

Among  the  Scottish  bands; 
And  all,  amid  the  thronged  array, 
In  panic  haste  gave  open  way 
To  a  half -naked  ghastly  man, 
Who  downward  from  the  castle  ran: 
He  crossed  the  barriers  at  a  bound. 
And  wild  and  haggard  looked  around, 

As  dizzy  and  in  pain; 
And  all  upon  the  armed  ground 

Knew  William  of  Deloraine! 
Each  ladye  sprung  from  seat  with  speed; 
Vaulted  each  marshal  from  his  steed ; 

'And  who  art  thou,'  they  cried, 
'  Who  hast  this  battle  fought  and  won?' 
His  plumed  helm  was  soon  undone  — 

'  Cranstoun  of  Teviot-side ! 
For  this  fair  prize  I  've  fought  and  won,'  — 
And  to  the  Ladye  led  her  son. 

XXV 

Full  oft  the  rescued  boy  she  kissed, 
And  often  pressed  him  to  her  breast, 

263 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

For,  under  all  her  dauntless  show, 
Her  heart  had  throbbed  at  every  blow ; 
Yet  not  Lord  Cranstoun  deigned  she  greet, 
Though  low  he  kneeled  at  her  feet. 
Me  lists  not  tell  what  words  were  made, 
What  Douglas,  Home,  and  Howard  said  — 

For  Howard  was  a  generous  foe  — 
And  how  the  clan  united  prayed 

The  Ladye  would  the  feud  forego, 
And  deign  to  bless  the  nuptial  hour 
Of  Cranstoun's  lord  and  Teviot's  Flower. 

XXVI 

She  looked  to  river,  looked  to  hill, 

Thought  on  the  Spirit's  prophecy, 
Then  broke  her  silence  stern  and  still: 

'Not  you,  but  Fate,  has  vanquished  me; 
Their  influence  kindly  stars  may  shower 
On  Teviot's  tide  and  Branksome's  tower, 

For  pride  is  quelled  and  love  is  free.' 
She  took  fair  Margaret  by  the  hand. 
Who,  breathless,  trembling,  scarce  might  stand; 

That  hand  to  Cranstoun's  lord  gave  she: 
*  As  I  am  true  to  thee  and  thine, 
Do  thou  be  true  to  me  and  mine! 

This  clasp  of  love  our  bond  shall  be, 
For  this  is  your  betrothing  day, 
264 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  all  these  noble  lords  shall  stay, 
To  grace  it  with  their  company.' 

XXVII 

All  as  they  left  the  listed  plain, 
Much  of  the  story  she  did  gain: 
How  Cranstoun  fought  with  Deloraine, 
And  of  his  page,  and  of  the  book 
Which  from  the  wounded  knight  he  took; 
And  how  he  sought  her  castle  high, 
That  morn,  by  help  of  gramarye; 
How,  in  Sir  William's  armour  dight. 
Stolen  by  his  page,  while  slept  the  knight, 
He  took  on  him  the  single  fight. 
But  half  his  tale  he  left  unsaid, 
And  lingered  till  he  joined  the  maid. 
Cared  not  the  Ladye  to  betray 
Her  mystic  arts  in  view  of  day; 
But  well  she  thought,  ere  midnight  came, 
Of  that  strange  page  the  pride  to  tame, 
From  his  foul  hands  the  book  to  save, 
And  send  it  back  to  Michael's  grave. 
Needs  not  to  tell  each  tender  word 
'Twixt  Margaret  and  'twixt  Cranstoun's  lord; 
Nor  how  she  told  of  former  woes. 
And  how  her  bosom  fell  and  rose 
While  he  and  Musgrave  bandied  blows. 
265 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Needs  not  these  lovers'  joys  to  tell ; 

One  day,  fair  maids,  you'll  know  them  well. 

XXVIII 

William  of  Deloraine  some  chance 
Had  wakened  from  his  deathlike  trance. 

And  taught  that  in  the  listed  plain 
Another,  in  his  arms  and  shield, 
Against  fierce  Musgrave  axe  did  wield. 

Under  the  name  of  Deloraine. 
Hence  to  the  field  unarmed  he  ran, 
And  hence  his  presence  scared  the  clan, 
Who  held  him  for  some  fleeting  wraith, 
And  not  a  man  of  blood  and  breath. 
Not  much  this  new  ally  he  loved. 
Yet,  when  he  saw  what  hap  had  proved, 

He  greeted  him  right  heartilie: 
He  would  not  waken  old  debate, 
For  he  was  void  of  rancorous  hate. 

Though  rude  and  scant  of  courtesy; 
In  raids  he  spilt  but  seldom  blood. 
Unless  when  men-at-arms  withstood, 
Or,  as  was  meet,  for  deadly  feud. 
He  ne'er  bore  grudge  for  stalwart  blow, 
Ta'en  in  fair  fight  from  gallant  foe. 
And  so  't  was  seen  of  him  e'en  now. 

When  on  dead  Musgrave  he  looked  down; 
266 


iTHE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Grief  darkened  on  his  rugged  brow, 

Though  half  disguised  with  a  frown ; 
And  thus,  while  sorrow  bent  his  head. 
His  foeman's  epitaph  he  made: 


XXIX 

*  Now,  Richard  Musgrave,  liest  thou  here, 

I  ween,  my  deadly  enemy; 
For,  if  I  slew  thy  brother  dear. 

Thou  slew'st  a  sister's  son  to  me; 
And  when  I  lay  in  dungeon  dark 

Of  Naworth  Castle  long  months  three. 
Till  ransomed  for  a  thousand  mark. 

Dark  Musgrave,  it  was  long  of  thee. 
And,  Musgrave,  could  our  fight  be  tried. 

And  thou  wert  now  alive,  as  I, 
No  mortal  man  should  us  divide. 

Till  one,  or  both,  of  us  did  die: 
Yet  rest  thee  God !  for  well  I  know 
I  ne'er  shall  find  a  nobler  foe. 
In  all  the  northern  counties  here. 
Whose  word  is  Snaffle,  spur,  and  spear, 
Thou  wert  the  best  to  follow  gear. 
'T  was  pleasure,  as  we  looked  behind. 
To  see  how  thou  the  chase  couldst  wind, 
Cheer  the  dark  bloodhound  on  his  way, 
267 


1M 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  with  the  bugle  rouse  the  fray!  ^ 
I  'd  give  the  lands  of  Deloraine, 
Dark  Musgrave  were  alive  again.' 

XXX 

So  mourned  he  till  Lord  Dacre's  band 
Were  bowning  back  to  Cumberland. 
They  raised  brave  Musgrave  from  the  field 
And  laid  him  on  his  bloody  shield ; 
On  levelled  lances,  four  and  four, 
By  turns,  the  noble  burden  bore. 
Before,  at  times,  upon  the  gale 
Was  heard  the  Minstrel's  plaintive  wail; 
Behind,  four  priests  in  sable  stole 
Sung  requiem  for  the  warrior's  soul; 
Around,  the  horsemen  slowly  rode; 
With  trailing  pikes  the  spearmen  trode; 
And  thus  the  gallant  knight  they  bore 
Through  Liddesdale  to  Leven's  shore, 
Thence  to  Holme  Coltrame's  lofty  nave, 
And  laid  him  in  his  father's  grave. 


The  harp's  wild  notes,  though  hushed  the  song, 
The  mimic  march  of  death  prolong; 
Now  seems  it  far,  and  now  a-near, 

'  See  Note  123, 
268 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Now  meets,  and  now  eludes  the  ear, 
Now  seems  some  mountain  side  to  sweep, 
Now  faintly  dies  in  valley  deep, 
Seems  now  as  if  the  Minstrel's  wail, 
Now  the  sad  requiem,  loads  the  gale;    , 
Last,  o'er  the  warrior's  closing  grave. 
Rung  the  full  choir  in  choral  stave. 

After  due  pause,  they  bade  him  tell 
Why  he,  who  touched  the  harp  so  well. 
Should  thus,  with  ill-rewarded  toil, 
Wander  a  poor  and  thankless  soil. 
When  the  more  generous  Southern  Land 
Would  well  requite  his  skilful  hand. 

The  aged  harper,  howsoe'er 

His  only  friend,  his  harp,  was  dear. 

Liked  not  to  hear  it  ranked  so  high 

Above  his  flowing  poesy: 

Less  liked  he  still  that  scornful  jeer 

Misprized  the  land  he  loved  so  dear; 

High  was  the  sound  as  thus  again 

The  bard  resumed  his  minstrel  strain. 


CANTO  SIXTH 

I 

Breathes  there  the  man,  with  soul  so  dead, 
Who  never  to  himself  hath  said, 

This  is  my  own,  my  native  land? 
Whose  heart  hath  ne'er  within  him  burned, 
As  home  his  footsteps  he  hath  turned 

From  wandering  on  a  foreign  strand? 
If  such  there  breathe,  go,  mark  him  well; 
For  him  no  minstrel  raptures  swell; 
High  though  his  titles,  proud  his  name. 
Boundless  his  wealth  as  wish  can  claim,  — 
Despite  those  titles,  power,  and  pelf, 
The  wretch,  concentred  all  in  self, 
Living,  shall  forfeit  fair  renown, 
And,  doubly  dying,  shall  go  down 
To  the  vile  dust  from  whence  he  sprung, 
Unwept,  unhonoured,  and  unsung. 

u 

O  Caledonia,  stern  and  wild. 

Meet  nurse  for  a  poetic  child ! 

Land  of  brown  heath  and  shaggy  wood, 

Land  of  the  mountain  and  the  flood, 

270 


vTHE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Land  of  my  sires!  what  mortal  hand 
Can  e'er  untie  the  filial  band 
That  knits  me  to  thy  rugged  strand ! 
Still,  as  I  view  each  well-known  scene, 
Think  what  is  now  and  what  hath  been, 
Seems  as  to  me,  of  all  bereft. 
Sole  friends  thy  woods  and  streams  were  left; 
And  thus  I  love  them  better  still, 
Even  in  extremity  of  ill. 
By  Yarrow's  stream  still  let  me  stray. 
Though  none  should  guide  my  feeble  way; 
Still  feel  the  breeze  down  Ettrick  break, 
Although  it  chill  my  withered  cheek; 
Still  lay  my  head  by  Teviot-stone, 
i  Though  there,  forgotten  and  alone. 
The  bard  may  draw  his  parting  groan. 

Ill 

Not  scorned  like  me,  to  Branksome  Hall 
The  minstrels  came  at  festive  call ; 
Trooping  they  came  from  near  and  far. 
The  jovial  priests  of  mirth  and  war;    . 
Alike  for  feast  and  fight  prepared. 
Battle  and  banquet  both  they  shared. 
Of  late,  before  each  martial  clan 
They  blew  their  death-note  in  the  van, 
But  now  for  every  merry  mate 
271 


THE.  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Rose  the  portcullis'  iron  grate; 
They  sound  the  pipe,  they  strike  the  string, 
They  dance,  they  revel,  and  they  sing, 
Till  the  rude  turrets  shake  and  ring. 


IV 

Me  lists  not  at  this  tide  declare 

The  splendour  of  the  spousal  rite, 
How  mustered  in  the  chapel  fair 

Both  maid  and  matron,  squire  and  knightj 
Me  lists  not  tell  of  owches  rare. 
Of  mantles  green,  and  braided  hair, 
And  kirtles  furred  with  miniver; 
What  plumage  waved  the  altar  round. 
How  spurs  and  ringing  chainlets  sound : 
And  hard  it  were  for  bard  to  speak 
The  changeful  hue  of  Margaret's  cheek. 

That  lovely  hue  which  comes  and  flies, 
As  awe  and  shame  alternate  rise! 

V 

Some  bards  have  sung,  the  Ladye  high 
Chapel  or  altar  came  not  nigh. 
Nor  durst  the  rites  of  spousal  grace. 
So  much  she  feared  each  holy  place. 
False  slanders  these :  —  I  trust  right  well, 
272 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

She  wrought  not  by  forbidden  spell, ^ 
For  mighty  words  and  signs  have  power 
O'er  sprites  in  planetary  hour ; 
Yet  scarce  I  praise  their  venturous  part 
Who  tamper  with  such  dangerous  art. 
But  this  for  faithful  truth  I  say,  — 

The  Lad  ye  by  the  altar  stood, 
Of  sable  velvet  her  array, 

And  on  her  head  a  crimson  hood, 
With  pearls  embroidered  and  entwined, 
Guarded  with  gold,  with  ermine  lined; 
A  merlin  sat  upon  her  wrist,2 
Held  by  a  leash  of  silken  twist. 

VI 

The  spousal  rites  were  ended  soon ; 
'T  was  now  the  merry  hour  of  noon, 
And  in  the  lofty  arched  hall 
Was  spread  the  gorgeous  festival. 
Steward  and  squire,  with  heedful  haste, 
Marshalled  the  rank  of  every  guest; 
Pages,  with  ready  blade,  were  there, 
The  mighty  meal  to  carve  and  share; 
O'er  capon,  heron-shew,  and  crane. 
And  princely  peacock's  gilded  train, 
And  o'er  the  boar-head,  garnished  brave,' 

»  See  Note  124.  «  See  Note  125.  •  See  Note  126. 

46  273 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

And  cygnet  from  Saint  Mary's  wave/ 

O'er  ptarmigan  and  venison, 

The  priest  had  spoke  his  benison. 

Then  rose  the  riot  and  the  din, 

Above,  beneath,  without,  within! 

For,  from  the  lofty  balcony, 

Rung  trumpet,  shalm,  and  psaltery: 

Their  clanging  bowls  old  warriors  quaffed, 

Loudly  they  spoke  and  loudly  laughed; 

Whispered  young  knights,  in  tone  more  mild, 

To  ladies  fair,  and  ladies  smiled. 

The  hooded  hawks,  high  perched  on  beam, 

The  clamour  joined  with  whistling  scream, 

And  flapped  their  wings  and  shook  their  bells, 

In  concert  with  the  stag-hounds'  yells. 

Round  go  the  flasks  of  ruddy  wine. 

From  Bordeaux,  Orleans,  or  the  Rhine; 

Their  tasks  the  busy  sewers  ply, 

And  all  is  mirth  and  revelry. 

VII 

The  Goblin  Page,  omitting  still 

No  opportunity  of  ill. 

Strove  now,  while  blood  ran  hot  and  high. 

To  rouse  debate  and  jealousy; 

Till  Conrad,  Lord  of  Wolfenstein, 

«  See  Note  127. 
274 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

By  nature  fierce,  and  warm  with  wine, 

And  now  in  humour  highly  crossed 

About  some  steeds  his  band  had  lost. 

High  words  to  words  succeeding  still, 

Smote  with  his  gauntlet  stout  Hunthill,* 

A  hot  and  hardy  Rutherford, 

Whom  men  called  Dickon  Draw-the-Sword. 

He  took  it  on  the  page's  saye, 

Hunthill  had  driven  these  steeds  away. 

Then  Howard,  Home,  and  Douglas  rose, 

The  kindling  discord  to  compose; 

Stern  Rutherford  right  little  said. 

But  bit  his  glove  ^  and  shook  his  head. 

A  fortnight  thence,  in  Inglewood, 

Stout  Conrad,  cold,  and  drenched  in  blood, 

His  bosom  gored  with  many  a  wound. 

Was  by  a  woodman's  lyme-dog  found: 

Unknown  the  manner  of  his  death. 

Gone  was  his  brand,  both  sword  and  sheath; 

But  ever  from  that  time,  't  was  said, 

That  Dickon  wore  a  Cologne  blade. 

VIII 

The  dwarf,  who  feared  his  master's  eye 
Might  his  foul  treachery  espie. 
Now  sought  the  castle  buttery, 

»  See  Note  128.  •  See  Note  129. 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Where  many  a  yeoman,  bold  and  free, 
Revelled  as  merrily  and  well 
As  those  that  sat  In  lordly  selle. 
Watt  Tinlinn  there  did  frankly  raise 
The  pledge  to  Arthur  Fire-the-Braes;^ 
And  he,  as  by  his  breeding  bound. 
To  Howard's  merrymen  sent  it  round. 
To  quit  them,  on  the  English  side. 
Red  Roland  Forster  loudly  cried, 

*A  deep  carouse  to  yon  fair  bride!' 
At  every  pledge,  from  vat  and  pail, 
Foamed  forth  in  floods  the  nut-brown  ale, 
While  shout  the  riders  every  one ; 

^  Such  day  of  mirth  ne'er  cheered  their  clan, 
Since  old  Buccleuch  the  name  did  gain,*^ 
When  in  the  cleuch  the  buck  was  ta'en. 

IX 

The  wily  page,  with  vengeful  thought, 
Remembered  him  of  Tinlinn's  yew. 
And  swore  it  should  be  dearly  bought 

That  ever  he  the  arrow  drew. 
First,  he  the  yeoman  did  molest 
With  bitter  gibe  and  taunting  jest; 
Told  how  he  fled  at  Solway  strife. 
And  how  Hob  Armstrong  cheered  his  wife; 

>  See  Note  130.  '  See  Note  131. 

276 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Then,  shunning  still  his  powerful  arm, 

At  unawares  he  wrought  him  harm ; 

From  trencher  stole  his  choicest  cheer, 

Dashed  from  his  lips  his  can  of  beer; 

Then,  to  his  knee  sly  creeping  on, 

With  bodkin  pierced  him  to  the  bone: 

The  venomed  wound  and  festering  joint 

Long  after  rued  that  bodkin's  point. 

The  startled  yeoman  swore  and  spurned, 

And  board  and  flagons  overturned. 

Riot  and  clamour  wild  began; 

Back  to  the  hall  the  urchin  ran, 

Took  in  a  darkling  nook  his  post, 

And  grinned,  and  muttered,  'Lost!  lost!  lost!' 


By  this,  the  dame,  lest  further  fray 
Should  mar  the  concord  of  the  day, 
Had  bid  the  minstrels  tune  their  lay. 
And  first  stepped  forth  old  Albert  Graeme,* 
The  minstrel  of  that  ancient  name : 
Was  none  who  struck  the  harp  so  well 
Within  the  Land  Debatable; 
Well  friended  too,  his  hardy  kin. 
Whoever  lost,  were  sure  to  win ; 

>  See  Note  132. 
277 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

They  sought  the  beeves  that  made  their  broth 
In  Scotland  and  in  England  both. 
In  homely  guise,  as  nature  bade, 
His  simple  song  the  Borderer  said. 

XI 

ALBERT   GR^ME 

It  was  an  English  ladye  bright, 

(The  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall)  * 

And  she  would  marry  a  Scottish  knight, 
For  Love  will  still  be  lord  of  all. 

Blithely  they  saw  the  rising  sun, 
When  he  shone  fair  on  Carlisle  wall ; 

But  they  were  sad  ere  day  was  done. 
Though  Love  was  still  the  lord  of  all. 

Her  sire  gave  brooch  and  jewel  fine, 

Where  the  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall ; 

Her  brother  gave  but  a  flask  of  wine, 
For  ire  that  Love  was  lord  of  all. 

For  she  had  lands  both  meadow  and  lea, 
Where  the  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall; 

And  he  swore  her  death,  ere  he  would  see 
A  Scottish  knight  be  lord  of  all ! 

»  See  Note  133. 
278 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XII 

That  wine  she  had  not  tasted  well, 
(The  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall) 

When  dead,  in  her  true  love's  arms,  she  fell, 
For  Love  was  still  the  lord  of  all. 

He  pierced  her  brother  to  the  heart. 
Where  the  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall ; 

So  perish  all  would  true  love  part, 
That  Love  may  still  be  lord  of  all! 

And  then  he  took  the  cross  divine. 

Where  the  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall, 

And  died  for  her  sake  in  Palestine, 
So  Love  was  still  the  lord  of  all. 

Now  all  ye  lovers,  that  faithful  prove, 
(The  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wall) 

Pray  for  their  souls  who  died  for  love, 
For  Love  shall  still  be  lord  of  all ! 

XIII 

As  ended  Albert's  simple  lay, 

Arose  a  bard  of  loftier  port. 
For  sonnet,  rhyme,  and  roundelay 

Renowned  in  haughty  Henry's  court: 

279 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

There  rung  thy  harp,  unrivalled  long, 

Fitztraver  of  the  silver  song ! 

The  gentle  Surrey  loved  his  lyre  ^  — 

Who  has  not  heard  of  Surrey's  fame? 
His  was  the  hero's  soul  of  fire. 

And  his  the  bard's  immortal  name. 
And  his  was  love,  exalted  high 
By  all  the  glow  of  chivalry. 

XIV 

They  sought  together  climes  afar, 

And  oft,  within  some  olive  grove, 
When  even  came  with  twinkling  star, 

They  sung  of  Surrey's  absent  love. 
His  step  the  Italian  peasant  stayed. 

And  deemed  that  spirits  from  on  high. 
Round  where  some  hermit  saint  was  laid, 

Were  breathing  heavenly  melody; 
So  sweet  did  harp  and  voice  combine 
To  praise  the  name  of  Geraldine. 

XV 

Fitztraver,  O,  what  tongue  may  say 
The  pangs  thy  faithful  bosom  knew, 

When  Surrey  of  the  deathless  lay 
Ungrateful  Tudor's  sentence  slew? 

>  See  Note  134. 
280 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Regardless  of  the  tyrant's  frown, 
His  harp  called  wrath  and  vengeance  down. 
He  left,  for  Naworth's  iron  towers, 
Windsor's  green  glades  and  courtly  bowers, 
And,  faithful  to  his  patron's  name, 
With  Howard  still  Fitztraver  came; 
Lord  William's  foremost  favourite  he, 
And  chief  of  all  his  minstrelsy. 

XVI 
FITZTRAVER 

*T  was  All-souls's  eve,  and  Surrey's  heart  beat  high ; 

He  heard  the  midnight  bell  with  anxious  start, 
Which  told  the  mystic  hour,  approaching  nigh, 

When  wise  Cornelius  promised  by  his  art 

To  show  to  him  the  ladye  of  his  heart, 
Albeit  betwixt  them  roared  the  ocean  grim ; 

Yet  so  the  sage  had  hight  to  play  his  part, 
That  he  should  see  her  form  in  life  and  limb. 
And  mark  if  still  she  loved  and  still  she  thought  of  him. 

XVII 

Dark  was  the  vaulted  room  of  gramarye, 
To  which  the  wizard  led  the  gallant  knight. 

Save  that  before  a  mirror,  huge  and  high, 
A  hallowed  taper  shed  a  glimmering  light 
On  mystic  implements  of  magic  might, 
281 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

On  cross,  and  character,  and  talisman, 

And  almagest,  and  altar,  nothing  bright; 
For  fitful  was  the  lustre,  pale  and  wan, 
As  watch-light  by  the  bed  of  some  departing  man. 

XVIII 

But  soon,  within  that  mirror  huge  and  high, 

Was  seen  a  self-emitted  light  to  gleam ; 
And  forms  upon  its  breast  the  earl  'gan  spy, 

Cloudy  and  indistinct  as  feverish  dream; 

Till,  slow  arranging  and  defined,  they  seem 
To  form  a  lordly  and  a  lofty  room, 

Part  lighted  by  a  lamp  with  silver  beam, 
Placed  by  a  couch  of  Agra's  silken  loom. 
And  part  by  moonshine  pale,  and  part  was  hid  in  gloom. 


1 


XIX 

Fair  all  the  pageant  —  but  how  passing  fair 

The  slender  form  which  lay  on  couch  of  Ind! 
O'er  her  white  bosom  strayed  her  hazel  hair. 

Pale  her  dear  cheek,  as  if  for  love  she  pined ; 

All  in  her  night-robe  loose  she  lay  reclined, 
And  pensive  read  from  tablet  eburnine 

Some  strain  that  seemed  her  inmost  soul  to  find: 
That  favoured  strain  was  Surrey's  raptured  line, 
That  fair  and  lovely  form  the  Lady  Geraldine. 

282 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XX 

Slow  rolled  the  clouds  upon  the  lovely  form, 

And  swept  the  goodly  vision  all  away  — 
So  royal  envy  rolled  the  murky  storm 

O'er  my  beloved  Master's  glorious  day. 

Thou  jealous,  ruthless  tyrant!  Heaven  repay 
On  thee,  and  on  thy  children's  latest  line, 

The  wild  caprice  of  thy  despotic  sway, 
The  gory  bridal  bed,  the  plundered  shrine, 
The  murdered  Surrey's  blood,  the  tears  of  Geraldine! 

XXI 

Both  Scots  and  Southern  chiefs  prolong 
Applauses  of  Fitztraver's  song; 
These  hated  Henry's  name  as  death, 
And  those  still  held  the  ancient  faith. 
Then  from  his  seat  with  lofty  air 
Rose  Harold,  bard  of  brave  Saint  Clair,  — 
Saint  Clair,  who,  feasting  high  at  Home, 
Had  with  that  lord  to  battle  come. 
Harold  was  born  where  restless  seas 
Howl  round  the  storm-swept  Orcades; 
Where  erst  Saint  Clairs  held  princely  sway  ^ 
O'er  isle  and  islet,  strait  and  bay;  — 
Still  nods  their  palace  to  its  fall,^ 
Thy  pride  and  sorrow,  fair  Kirkwall !  — 

«  See  Note  135.  '  See  Note  136. 

283 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Thence  oft  he  marked  fierce  Pentland  rave, 

As  if  grim  Odin  rode  her  wave, 

And  watched  the  whilst,  with  visage  pale 

And  throbbing  heart,  the  struggling  sail; 

For  all  of  wonderful  and  wild 

Had  rapture  for  the  lonely  child. 


XXII 

And  much  of  wild  and  wonderful 
In  these  rude  isles  might  Fancy  cull; 
For  thither  came  in  times  afar 
Stern  Lochlin's  sons  of  roving  war, 
The  Norsemen,  trained  to  spoil  and  blood, 
Skilled  to  prepare  the  raven's  food, 
Kings  of  the  main  their  leaders  brave, 
Their  barks  the  dragons  of  the  wave ;  ^ 
And  there,  in  many  a  stormy  vale, 
The  Scald  had  told  his  wondrous  tale, 
And  many  a  Runic  column  high 
Had  witnessed  grim  idolatry. 
And  thus  had  Harold  in  his  youth 
Learned  many  a  Saga's  rhyme  uncouth,  — 
Of  that  Sea-Snake,  tremendous  curled, 
Whose  monstrous  circle  girds  the  world ;  ^ 
Of  those  dread  Maids ^  whose  hideous  yell 
Maddens  the  battle's  bloody  swell ; 

>  Sea  Note  137.  '  See  Note  138.  »  See  Note  139. 

284 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Of  chiefs  who,  guided  through  the  gloom 
By  the  pale  death-lights  of  the  tomb, 
Ransacked  the  graves  of  warriors  old, 
Their  falchions  wrenched  from  corpses'  hold,* 
Waked  the  deaf  tomb  with  war's  alarms. 
And  bade  the  dead  arise  to  arms! 
With  war  and  wonder  all  on  flame. 
To  Roslin's  bowers  young  Harold  came. 
Where,  by  sweet  glen  and  greenwood  tree, 
He  learned  a  milder  minstrelsy; 
Yet  something  of  the  Northern  spell 
Mixed  with  the  softer  numbers  well. 

XXIII 
HAROLD 

O,  listen,  listen,  ladies  gay! 

No  haughty  feat  of  arms  I  tell ; 
Soft  is  the  note,  and  sad  the  lay. 

That  mourns  the  lovely  Rosabelle.^ 

'Moor,  moor  the  barge,  ye  gallant  crew! 

And,  gentle  ladye,  deign  to  stay ! 
Rest  thee  in  Castle  Ravensheuch,' 
Nor  tempt  the  stormy  firth  to-day. 

'The  blackening  wave  is  edged  with  white; 
To  inch  and  rock  the  sea-mews  fly; 

>  See  Note  140.  •  See  Note  141.  •  See  Note  143. 

285 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  IvIINSTREL' 

The  fishers  have  heard  the  Water  Sprite, 
Whose  screams  forebode  that  wreck  is  nigh. 

'Last  night  the  gifted  Seer  did  view 

A  wet  shroud  swathed  round  ladye  gay; 
Then  stay  thee,  fair,  in  Ravensheuch: 
Why  cross  the  gloomy  firth  to-day?* 

*  'T  is  not  because  Lord  Lindesay's  heir 

To-night  at  Roslin  leads  the  ball, 
But  that  my  ladye-mother  there 
Sits  lonely  in  her  castle-hall. 

*  'T  is  not  because  the  ring  they  ride, 

And  Lindesay  at  the  ring  rides  well. 
But  that  my  sire  the  wine  will  chide, 
If  't  is  not  filled  by  Rosabelle.' 

O'er  Roslin  all  that  dreary  night 

A  wondrous  blaze  was  seen  to  gleam ; 

'T  was  broader  than  the  watch-fire  light, 
And  redder  than  the  bright  moonbeam. 

It  glared  on  Roslin's  castled  rock, 
It  ruddied  all  the  copsewood  glen; 

'T  was  seen  from  Dreyden's  groves  of  oak, 
And  seen  from  caverned  Hawthornden. 
2S6 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Seemed  all  on  fire  that  chapel  proud 
Where  RosHn's  chiefs  uncoffined  lie, 

Each  baron,  for  a  sable  shroud. 
Sheathed  in  his  iron  panoply. 

Seemed  all  on  fire  within,  around. 

Deep  sacristy  and  altar's  pale; 
Shone  every  pillar  foliage-bound. 

And  glimmered  all  the  dead  men's  mail.* 

Blazed  battlement  and  pinnet  high. 

Blazed  every  rose-carved  buttress  fair  — 

So  still  they  blaze  when  fate  is  nigh 
The  lordly  line  of  high  Saint  Clair. 

There  are  twenty  of  Roslin's  barons  bold 
Lie  buried  within  that  proud  chapelle; 

Each  one  the  holy  vault  doth  hold  — 
But  the  sea  holds  lovely  Rosabelle! 

And  each  Saint  Clair  was  buried  there, 
With  candle,  with  book,  and  with  knell; 

But  the  sea-caves  rung  and  the  wild  winds  sung 
The  dirge  of  lovely  Rosabelle. 

«  See  Note  143. 


287 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

XXIV 

So  sweet  was  Harold's  piteous  lay, 

Scarce  marked  the  guests  the  darkened  hall. 
Though,  long  before  the  sinking  day, 

A  wondrous  shade  involved  them  all. 
It  was  not  eddying  mist  or  fog. 
Drained  by  the  sun  from  fen  or  bog; 

Of  no  eclipse  had  sages  told ; 
And  yet,  as  it  came  on  apace. 
Each  one  could  scarce  his  neighbour's  face, 

Could  scarce  his  own  stretched  hand  behold. 
A  secret  horror  checked  the  feast. 
And  chilled  the  soul  of  every  guest; 
Even  the  high  dame  stood  half  aghast, 
She  knew  some  evil  on  the  blast; 
The  elfish  page  fell  to  the  ground. 
And,  shuddering,  muttered, ' Found!  found!  found!* 

XXV 

Then  sudden  through  the  darkened  air 

A  flash  of  lightning  came; 
So  broad,  so  bright,  so  red  the  glare, 

The  castle  seemed  on  flame. 
Glanced  every  rafter  of  the  hall, 
Glanced  every  shield  upon  the  wall : 
Each  trophied  beam,  each  sculptured  stone, 
288 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Were  instant  seen  and  instant  gone; 

Full  through  the  guests'  bedazzled  band 

Resistless  flashed  the  levin-brand, 

And  filled  the  hall  with  smouldering  smoke, 

As  on  the  elfish  page  it  broke. 

It  broke  with  thunder  long  and  loud, 

Dismayed  the  brave,  appalled  the  proud,  — 

From  sea  to  sea  the  larum  rung ; 
On  Berwick  wall,  and  at  Carlisle  withal, 

To  arms  the  startled  warders  sprung. 
When  ended  was  the  dreadful  roar, 
The  elfish  dwarf  was  seen  no  more! 

XXVI 

Some  heard  a  voice  in  Branksome  Hall, 
Some  saw  a  sight,  not  seen  by  all ; 
That  dreadful  voice  was  heard  by  some 
Cry,  with  loud  summons,  'Gylbin,  come!* 

And  on  the  spot  where  burst  the  brand. 
Just  where  the  page  had  flung  him  down. 

Some  saw  an  arm,  and  some  a  hand. 
And  some  the  waving  of  a  gown. 
The  guests  in  silence  prayed  and  shook, 
And  terror  dimmed  each  lofty  look. 
But  none  of  all  the  astonished  train 
Was  so  dismayed  as  Deloraine : 
His  blood  did  freeze,  his  brain  did  burn, 

48  289 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

'T  was  feared  his  mind  would  ne'er  return ; 
For  he  was  speechless,  ghastly,  wan, 
Like  him  of  whom  the  story  ran, 
Who  spoke  the  spectre-hound  in  Man.* 
At  length  by  fits  he  darkly  told, 
With  broken  hint  and  shuddering  cold, 

That  he  had  seen  right  certainly 
A  shape  with  amice  wrapped  around, 
With  a  wrought  Spanish  baldric  bound. 

Like  pilgrim  from  beyond  the  sea; 
And  knew  —  but  how  it  mattered  not  — 
It  was  the  wizard,  Michael  Scott. 

XXVII 

The  anxious  crowd,  with  horror  pale. 
All  trembling  heard  the  wondrous  tale : 
No  sound  was  made,  no  word  was  spoke, 
Till  noble  Angus  silence  broke; 

And  he  a  solemn  sacred  plight 
Did  to  Saint  Bride  of  Douglas  make,^ 
That  he  a  pilgrimage  would  take 
To  Melrose  Abbey,  for  the  sake 

Of  Michael's  restless  sprite. 
Then  each,  to  ease  his  troubled  breast, 
To  some  blest  saint  his  prayers  addressed: 
Some  to  Saint  Modan  made  their  vows, 

•  See  Note  144.  *  See  Note  14s. 

290 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Some  to  Saint  Mary  of  the  Lowes, 

Some  to  the  Holy  Rood  of  Lisle, 

Some  to  Our  Lady  of  the  Isle; 

Each  did  his  patron  witness  make 

That  he  such  pilgrimage  would  take, 

And  monks  should  sing  and  bells  should  toll, 

All  for  the  weal  of  Michael's  soul. 

While  vows  were  ta'en  and  prayers  were 

prayed, 
'T  is  said  the  noble  dame,  dismayed. 
Renounced  for  aye  dark  magic's  aid. 

XXVIII 

Nought  of  the  bridal  will  I  tell. 

Which  after  in  short  space  befell ; 

Nor  how  brave  sons  and  daughters  fair 

Blessed  Teviot's  Flower  and  Cranstoun's  heir: 

After  such  dreadful  scene  't  were  vain 

To  wake  the  note  of  mirth  again. 

More  meet  it  were  to  mark  the  day 

Of  penitence  and  prayer  divine. 
When  pilgrim-chiefs,  in  sad  array, 

Sought  Melrose'  holy  shrine. 

XXIX 

With  naked  foot,  and  sackcloth  vest. 
And  arms  enfolded  on  his  breast, 
291 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Did  every  pilgrim  go ; 

The  standers-by  might  hear  uneath 

Footstep,  or  voice,  or  high-drawn  breath, 

Through  all  the  lengthened  row: 
No  lordly  look  nor  martial  stride, 
Gone  was  their  glory,  sunk  their  pride, 

Forgotten  their  renown ; 
Silent  and  slow,  like  ghosts,  they  glide 
To  the  high  altar's  hallowed  side. 

And  there  they  knelt  them  down. 
Above  the  suppliant  chieftains  wave 
The  banners  of  departed  brave ; 
Beneath  the  lettered  stones  were  laid 
The  ashes  of  their  fathers  dead; 
From  many  a  garnished  niche  around 
Stern  saints  and  tortured  martyrs  frowned. 


XXX 

And  slow  up  the  dim  aisle  afar, 
With  sable  cowl  and  scapular. 
And  snow-white  stoles,  in  order  due, 
The  holy  fathers,  two  and  two. 

In  long  procession  came; 
Taper  and  host  and  book  they  bare. 
And  holy  banner,  flourished  fair 

With  the  Redeemer's  name. 

292 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Above  the  prostrate  pilgrim  band 
The  mitred  abbot  stretched  his  hand, 

And  blessed  them  as  they  kneeled ; 
With  holy  cross  he  signed  them  all, 
And  prayed  they  might  be  sage  in  hall 

And  fortunate  in  field. 
Then  mass  was  sung,  and  prayers  were  said, 
And  solemn  requiem  for  the  dead; 
And  bells  tolled  out  their  mighty  peal 
For  the  departed  spirit's  weal ; 
And  ever  in  the  office  close 
The  hymn  of  intercession  rose; 
And  far  the  echoing  aisles  prolong 
The  awful  burden  of  the  song, 

Dies  iRiE,  dies  illa, 

SOLVET  SiECLUM  IN  FA  VILLA, 

While  the  pealing  organ  rung. 
Were  it  meet  with  sacred  strain 
To  close  my  lay,  so  light  and  vain, 

Thus  the  holy  fathers  sung: 

HYMN  FOR  THE   DEAD 

That  day  of  wrath,  that  dreadful  day. 
When  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away, 
What  power  shall  be  the  sinner's  stay? 
How  shall  he  meet  that  dreadful  day? 

293 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

When,  shrivelling  like  a  parched  scroll, 
The  flaming  heavens  together  roll, 
When  louder  yet,  and  yet  more  dread, 
Swells  the  high  trump  that  wakes  the  dead ! 

O,  on  that  day,  that  wrathful  day, 
When  man  to  judgment  wakes  from  clay, 
Be  Thou  the  trembling  sinner's  stay. 
Though  heaven  and  earth  shall  pass  away ! 


Hushed  is  the  harp  —  the  Minstrel  gone. 
And  did  he  wander  forth  alone? 
Alone,  in  indigence  and  age, 
To  linger  out  his  pilgrimage? 
No:  close  beneath  proud  Newark's  tower 
Arose  the  Minstrel's  lowly  bower, 
A  simple  hut ;  but  there  was  seen 
The  little  garden  hedged  with  green. 
The  cheerful  hearth,  and  lattice  clean. 
There  sheltered  wanderers,  by  the  blaze, 
Oft  heard  the  tale  of  other  days; 
For  much  he  loved  to  ope  his  door. 
And  give  the  aid  he  begged  before. 
So  passed  the  winter's  day;  but  still. 
When  summer  smiled  on  sweet  Bowhill, 
And  July's  eve,  with  balmy  breath, 
294 


THE  LAY  OF  THE  LAST  MINSTREL 

Waved  the  blue-bells  on  Newark  heath, 
When  throstles  sung  in  Harehead-shaw, 
And  corn  was  green  on  Carterhaugh, 
And  flourished,  broad,  Blackandro's  oak, 
The  aged  harper's  soul  awoke! 
Then  would  he  sing  achievements  high 
And  circumstance  of  chivalry, 
Till  the  rapt  traveller  would  stay, 
Forgetful  of  the  closing  day ; 
And  noble  youths,  the  strain  to  hear. 
Forsook  the  hunting  of  the  deer ; 
And  Yarrow,  as  he  rolled  along. 
Bore  burden  to  the  Minstrel's  song. 


NOTES  AND  GLOSSARY 


NOTES 

Note  i,  p.  38 

The  allusion  is  to  the  massacre  of  the  Swiss  Guards  on  the  fatal 
loth  August,  1792.  It  is  painful,  but  not  useless,  to  remark,  that 
the  passive  temper  with  which  the  Swiss  regarded  the  death 
of  their  bravest  countrymen,  mercilessly  slaughtered  in  dis- 
charge of  their  duty,  encouraged  and  authorized  the  progressive 
injustice,  by  which  the  Alps,  once  the  seat  of  the  most  virtuous 
and  free  people  upon  the  continent,  have,  at  length,  been  con- 
verted into  the  citadel  of  a  foreign  and  military  despot.  A  state 
degraded  is  half  enslaved.     [1812.] 

Note  2,  p.  46 

The  fires  lighted  by  the  Highlanders,  on  the  1st  of  May,  in 
compliance  with  a  custom  derived  from  the  pagan  times,  are 
termed  the  beltane-tree.  It  is  a  festival  celebrated  with  various 
superstitious  rites,  both  in  the  north  of  Scotland  and  in  Wales. 

Note  3,  p.  37 

I  can  only  describe  the  second  sight  by  adopting  Dr.  John- 
son's definition,  who  calls  it  *an  impression,  either  by  the  mind 
upon  the  eye,  or  by  the  eye  upon  the  mind,  by  which  things  dis- 
tant and  future  are  perceived  and  seen  as  if  they  were  present.' 
To  which  I  would  only  add,  that  the  spectral  appearances,  thus 
presented,  usually  presage  misfortune ;  that  the  faculty  is  painful 
to  those  who  suppose  they  possess  it;  and  that  they  usually  ac- 
quire it  while  themselves  under  the  pressure  of  melancholy. 

Note  4,  p.  50 

St.  Oran  was  a  friend  and  follower  of  St.  Columba,  and  was 
buried  at  Icolmkill.    His  pretensions  to  be  a  saint  were  rather 

299 


NOTES 

dubious.  According  to  the  legend,  he  consented  to  be  buried 
alive,  in  order  to  propitiate  certain  demons  of  the  soil,  who  ob- 
structed the  attempts  of  Columba  to  build  a  chapel.  Columba 
caused  the  body  of  his  friend  to  be  dug  up,  after  three  days  had 
elapsed;  when  Oran,  to  the  horror  and  scandal  of  the  assistants, 
declared  that  there  was  neither  a  God,  a  judgment,  nor  a  future 
state!  He  had  no  time  to  make  further  discoveries,  for  Columba 
caused  the  earth  once  more  to  be  shovelled  over  him  with  the 
utmost  despatch.  The  chapel,  however,  and  the  cemetery,  was 
called  Relig  Ouran;  and,  in  memory  of  his  rigid  celibacy,  no 
female  was  permitted  to  pay  her  devotions  or  be  buried  in  that 
place.  This  is  the  rule  alluded  to  in  the  poem. 

Note  5,  p.  56 

St.  Fillan  has  given  his  name  to  many  chapels,  holy  fountains, 
etc.,  in  Scotland.  He  was,  according  to  Camerarius,  an  Abbot 
of  Pittenweem,  in  Fife;  from  which  situation  he  retired,  and  died 
a  hermit  in  the  wilds  of  Glenurchy,  A.  D.  649.  While  engaged 
in  transcribing  the  Scriptures,  his  left  hand  was  observed  to  send 
forth  such  a  splendour  as  to  afford  light  to  that  with  which  he 
wrote,  —  a  miracle  which  saved  many  candles  to  the  convent, 
as  St.  Fillan  used  to  spend  whole  nights  in  that  exercise.  The 
9th  of  January  was  dedicated  to  this  saint,  who  gave  his  name 
to  Kilfillan,  in  Renfrew,  and  St.  Phillans,  or  Forgend,  in  Fife. 
Lesley,  lib.  7,  tells  us,  that  Robert  the  Bruce  was  possessed  of 
Fillan's  miraculous  and  luminous  arm,  which  he  enclosed  in  a  sil- 
ver shrine,  and  had  it  carried  at  the  head  of  his  army.  Previous 
to  the  battle  of  Bannockburn,  the  king's  chaplain,  a  man  of  little 
faith,  abstracted  the  relic,  and  deposited  it  in  some  place  of 
security,  lest  it  should  fall  into  the  hands  of  the  English.  But 
lo !  while  Robert  was  addressing  his  prayers  to  the  empty  casket, 
it  was  observed  to  open  and  shut  suddenly;  and,  on  inspection, 
the  saint  was  found  to  have  himself  deposited  his  arm  in  the 
shrine,  as  an  assurance  of  victory.  Such  is  the  tale  of  Lesley. 
But  though  Bruce  little  needed  that  the  arm  of  St.  Fillan  should 
assist  his  own,  he  dedicated  to  him,  in  gratitude,  a  priory  at 
Killin,  upon  Loch  Tay. 

300 


NOTES 

In  the  Scots  Magazine  for  July,  1802,  there  is  a  copy  of  a  very 
curious  crown-grant,  dated  nth  July,  1487,  by  which  James  III 
confirms  to  Malice  Doire,  an  inhabitant  of  Strathfillan,  in  Perth- 
shire, the  peaceable  exercise  and  enjoyment  of  a  relic  of  St. 
Fillan,  being  apparently  the  head  of  a  pastoral  staff  called  the 
Quegrich,  which  he  and  his  predecessors  are  said  to  have  pos- 
sessed since  the  days  of  Robert  Bruce.  As  the  Quegrich  was 
used  to  cure  diseases,  this  document  is  probably  the  most  ancient 
patent  ever  granted  for  a  quack  medicine.  The  ingenious  corre- 
spondent, by  whom  it  is  furnished,  further  observes,  that 
additional  particulars  concerning  St.  Fillan  are  to  be  found  in 
Bellenden's  Boece,  Book  iv,  folio  ccxiii,  and  in  Pennant's  Tour 
in  Scotland,  1772,  pp.  11,  15. 

Note  6,  p.  59 

Smaylholme  or  Smallholm  Tower,  the  scene  of  the  ballad, 
is  situated  on  the  northern  boundary  of  Roxburghshire,  among 
a  cluster  of  wild  rocks,  called  Sandiknow-Crags,  the  property 
of  Hugh  Scott,  Esq.,  of  Harden.  The  tower  is  a  high  square 
building,  surrounded  by  an  outer  wall,  now  ruinous.  The  circuit 
of  the  outer  court,  being  defended  on  three  sides  by  a  precipice 
and  morass,  is  accessible  only  from  the  west,  by  a  steep  and 
rocky  path.  The  apartments,  as  is  usual  in  a  Border  keep,  or 
fortress,  are  placed  one  above  another,  and  communicate  by  a 
narrow  stair;  on  the  roof  are  two  bartizans,  or  platforms,  for 
defence  or  pleasure.  The  inner  door  of  the  tower  is  wood,  the 
outer  an  iron  gate;  the  distance  between  them  being  nine  feet, 
the  thickness,  namely,  of  the  wall.  From  the  elevated  situa- 
tion of  Smaylholme  Tower,  it  is  seen  many  miles  in  every  direc- 
tion. Among  the  crags  by  which  it  is  surrounded,  one,  more 
eminent,  is  called  the  Watchfold,  and  is  said  to  have  been  the 
station  of  a  beacon,  in  the  times  of  war  with  England.  Without 
the  tower  court  is  a  ruined  chapel.  Brotherstone  is  a  heath,  in 
the  neighbourhood  of  Smaylholme  Tower. 


301 


s 


NOTES 

Note  7,  p.  59 

Lord  Evers  and  Sir  Brian  Latoun,  during  the  year  1 544,  com- 
mitted the  most  dreadful  ravages  upon  the  Scottish  frontiers, 
compelhng  most  of  the  inhabitants,  and  especially  the  men  of 
Liddesdale,  to  take  assurance  under  the  King  of  England.  Upon 
the  17th  November,  in  that  year,  the  sum-total  of  their  depre- 
dations stood  thus,  in  the  bloody  ledger  of  Lord  Evers:  — 

Towns,  towers,  barnekynes,  parysche  churches,  bastill  houses,  burned  and 

destroyed,       •         • 192 

Scots  slain, 403 

Prisoners  taken,  .         .         .         .    , 816 

Nolt  (cattle) 10,386 

Shepe, 12,492 

Nags  and  geldings, 1296 

Gayt,  . 200 

Bolls  of  corn, 850 

Insight  gear,  &c.  (furniture),  an  incalculable  quantity. 

Murdin's  Slate  Papers,  vol.  I,  p.  51. 

For  these  services.  Sir  Ralph  Evers  was  made  a  Lord  of  Par- 
liament. 

The  King  of  England  had  promised  to  these  two  barons  a 
feudal  grant  of  the  country,  which  they  had  thus  reduced  to  a 
desert;  upon  hearing  which,  Archibald  Douglas,  the  seventh 
Earl  of  Angus,  is  said  to  have  sworn  to  write  the  deed  of  investi- 
ture upon  their  skins,  with  sharp  pens  and  bloody  ink,  in  resent- 
ment for  their  having  defaced  the  tombs  of  his  ancestors,  at 
Melrose.  (Godscroft.)  In  1545,  Lord  Evers  and  Latoun  again 
entered  Scotland,  with  an  army  consisting  of  3000  mercenaries, 
1500  English  Borderers,  and  700  assured  Scottish-men,  chiefly 
Armstrongs,  TurnbuUs,  and  other  broken  clans.  In  this  second 
incursion,  the  English  generals  even  exceeded  their  former  cru- 
elty. Evers  burned  the  tower  of  Broomhouse,  with  its  lady  (a 
noble  and  aged  woman,  says  Lesley),  and  her  whole  family.  The 
English  penetrated  as  far  as  Melrose,  which  they  had  destroyed 
last  year,  and  which  they  now  again  pillaged.  As  they  returned 
towards  Jedburgh,  they  were  followed  by  Angus,  at  the  head 
of  1000  horse,  who  was  shortly  after  joined  by  the  famous  Nor- 
man Lesley,  with  a  body  of  Fife-men.  The  English,  being  prob- 

302 


NOTES 

ably  unwilling  to  cross  the  Teviot,  while  the  Scots  hung  upon 
their  rear,  halted  upon  Ancram  Moor,  above  the  village  of  that 
name;  and  the  Scottish  general  was  deliberating  whether  to 
advance  or  retire,  when  Sir  Walter  Scott,  of  Buccleuch,  came  up 
at  full  speed,  with  a  small,  but  chosen  body  of  his  retainers,  the 
rest  of  whom  were  near  at  hand.  By  the  advice  of  this  experi- 
enced warrior  (to  whose  conduct  Pitscottie  and  Buchanan 
ascribe  the  success  of  the  engagement),  Angus  withdrew  from 
the  height  which  he  occupied,  and  drew  up  his  forces  behind  it, 
upon  a  piece  of  low  flat  ground,  called  Panier-heugh,  or  Paniel 
heugh.  The  spare  horses  being  sent  to  an  eminence  in  their  rear, 
appeared  to  the  English  to  be  the  main  body  of  the  Scots,  in  the 
act  of  flight.  Under  this  persuasion,  Evers  and  Latoun  hurried 
precipitately  forward,  and,  having  ascended  the  hill,  which  their 
foes  had  abandoned,  were  no  less  dismayed,  than  astonished, 
to  find  the  phalanx  of  Scottish  spearmen  drawn  up,  in  firm 
array,  upon  the  flat  ground  below.  The  Scots  in  their  turn 
became  the  assailants.  A  heron,  roused  from  the  marshes  by  the 
tumult,  soared  away  betwixt  the  encountering  armies:  'O!' 
exclaimed  Angus, '  that  I  had  here  my  white  goss-hawk,  that  we 
might  all  yoke  at  once!'  (Godscroft.)  The  English,  breathless 
and  fatigued,  having  the  setting  sun  and  wind  full  in  their  faces, 
were  unable  to  withstand  the  resolute  and  desperate  charge  of 
the  Scottish  lances.  No  sooner  had  they  begun  to  waver,  than 
their  own  allies,  the  assured  Borderers,  who  had  been  waiting 
the  event,  threw  aside  their  red  crosses,  and,  joining  their  coun- 
trymen, made  a  most  merciless  slaughter  among  the  English 
fugitives,  the  pursuers  calling  upon  each  other  to  'remember 
Broomhouse!'  (Lesley,  p.  478.) 

In  the  battle  fell  Lord  Evers,  and  his  son;  together  with  Sir 
Brian  Latoun,  and  800  Englishmen,  many  of  whom  were  persons 
of  rank.  A  thousand  prisoners  were  taken.  Among  these  was  a 
patriotic  alderman  of  London,  Read  by  name,  who,  having 
contumaciously  refused  to  pay  his  portion  of  a  benevolence 
demanded  from  the  city  by  Henry  VIII,  was  sent  by  royal 
authority  to  serve  against  the  Scots.    These,  at  settling  his 

303 


NOTES 

ransom,  he  found  still  more  exorbitant  in  their  exactions  than 
the  monarch.    (Redpath's  Border  History,  p.  563.) 

Evers  was  much  regretted  by  King  Henry,  who  swore  to 
avenge  his  death  upon  Angus,  against  whom  he  conceived  him- 
self to  have  particular  grounds  of  resentment,  on  account  of 
favours  received  by  the  Earl  at  his  hands.  The  answer  of  Angus 
was  worthy  of  a  Douglas:  'Is  our  brother-in-law  offended  ?  '  ^ 
said  he,  '  that  I,  as  a  good  Scotsman,  have  avenged  my  ravaged 
country,  and  the  defaced  tombs  of  my  ancestors,  upon  Ralph 
Evers?  They  were  better  men  than  he,  and  I  was  bound  to  do 
no  less  —  and  will  he  take  my  life  for  that?  Little  knows  King 
Henry  the  skirts  of  Kirnetable :  I  can  keep  myself  there  against 
all  his  English  host.'   (Godscroft.) 

Such  was  the  noted  battle  of  Ancram  Moor.  The  spot,  on 
which  it  was  fought,  is  called  Lilyard's  Edge,  from  an  Amazon- 
ian Scottish  woman  of  that  name,  who  is  reported,  by  tradition, 
to  have  distinguished  herself  in  the  same  manner  as  Squire 
Witherington.  The  old  people  point  out  her  monument,  now 
broken  and  defaced.  The  inscription  is  said  to  have  been  legible 
within  this  century,  and  to  have  run  thus: 

Fair  maiden,  Lylliard  lies  under  this  stane. 

Little  was  her  stature,  but  great  was  her  fame; 

Upon  the  English  louns  she  laid  mony  thumps. 

And,  when  her  legs  were  cutted  o£f,  she  fought  upon  her  stumps. 

Vide  Account  of  Ike  Parish  of  Melrose. 

It  appears  from  a  passage  in  Stowe,  that  an  ancestor  of  Lord 
Evers,  held  also  a  grant  of  Scottish  lands  from  an  English 
monarch.  'I  have  seen,'  says  the  historian,  'under  the  broad- 
seale  of  the  said  King  Edward  I,  a  manor,  called  Ketnes,  in  the 
county  of  Forfare,  in  Scotland,  and  neere  the  furthest  part 
of  the  same  nation  northward  given  to  John  Ure  and  his  heires, 
ancestor  to  the  Lord  Ure,  that  now  is,  for  his  service  done  in 
these  partes,  with  market  &c.  dated  at  Lanercost,  the  20th  day 
of  October,  anno  regis,  34.'  (Stowe's  Annals,  p.  210.)  This 
grant,  like  that  of  Henry,  must  have  been  dangerous  to  the 
receiver. 

»  Angus  had  married  the  widow  of  James  rv,  sister  to  King  Henry  viu. 


NOTES 

Note  8,  p.  64 

Eildon  is  a  high  hill,  terminating  in  three  conical  summits, 
immediately  above  the  town  of  Melrose,  where  are  the  admired 
ruins  of  a  magnificent  monastery.  Eildon  Tree  is  said  to  be  the 
spot  where  Thomas  the  Rhymer  uttered  his  prophecies. 

Note  9,  p.  68 

The  circumstance  of  the  nun  '  who  never  saw  the  day,'  is  not 
entirely  imaginary.  About  fifty  years  ago,  an  unfortunate 
female  wanderer  took  up  her  residence  in  a  dark  vault,  among 
the  ruins  of  Dryburgh  Abbey,  which,  during  the  day,  she  never 
quitted.  When  night  fell,  she  issued  from  this  miserable  habita- 
tion, and  went  to  the  house  of  Mr.  Haliburton  of  Newmains,  the 
Editor's  great-grandfather,  or  to  that  of  Mr.  Erskine  of  Sheil- 
field,  two  gentlemen  of  the  neighbourhood.  From  their  charity 
she  obtained  such  necessaries  as  she  could  be  prevailed  upon  to 
accept.  At  twelve,  each  night,  she  lighted  her  candle,  and 
returned  to  her  vault,  assuring  her  friendly  neighbours  that 
during  her  absence  her  habitation  was  arranged  by  a  spirit,  to 
whom  she  gave  the  uncouth  name  of  Fatlips;  describing  him  as 
a  little  man,  wearing  heavy  iron  shoes,  with  which  he  trampled 
the  clay  floor  of  the  vault,  to  dispel  the  damps.  This  circum- 
stance caused  her  to  be  regarded,  by  the  well-informed,  with 
compassion,  as  deranged  in  her  understanding;  and  by  the 
vulgar,  with  some  degree  of  terror.  The  cause  of  her  adopting 
this  extraordinary  mode  of  life  she  would  never  explain.  It  was, 
however,  believed  to  have  been  occasioned  by  a  vow  that  during 
the  absence  of  a  man  to  whom  she  was  attached,  she  would  never 
look  upon  the  sun.  Her  lover  never  returned.  He  fell  during  the 
civil  war  of  1745-46,  and  she  nevermore  would  behold  the  light 
of  day. 

The  vault,  or  rather  dungeon,  in  which  this  unfortunate 
woman  lived  and  died,  passes  still  by  the  name  of  the  super- 
natural being  with  which  its  gloom  was  tenanted  by  her  dis- 

48  305 


NOTES 

turbed  imagination,  and  few  of  the  neighbouring  peasants  dare 
enter  it  by  night.     [1803.] 

Note  10,  p.  69 

The  imperfect  state  of  this  ballad,  which  was  written  several 
years  ago,  is  not  a  circumstance  affected  for  the  purpose  of 
giving  it  that  peculiar  interest,  which  is  often  found  to  arise 
from  ungratified  curiosity.  On  the  contrary,  it  was  the  Editor's 
intention  to  have  completed  the  tale,  if  he  had  found  himself 
able  to  succeed  to  his  own  satisfaction.  Yielding  to  the  opinion 
of  persons,  whose  judgment,  if  not  biassed  by  the  partiality  of 
friendship,  is  entitled  to  deference,  he  has  preferred  inserting 
these  verses  as  a  fragment,  to  his  intention  of  entirely  suppress- 
ing them. 

The  tradition,  upon  which  the  tale  is  founded,  regards  a  house 
upon  the  barony  of  Gilmerton,  near  Lasswade,  in  Mid-Lothian. 
This  building,  now  called  Gilmerton  Grange,  was  originally 
named  Burndale,  from  the  following  tragic  adventure.  The 
barony  of  Gilmerton  belonged,  of  yore,  to  a  gentleman  named 
Heron,  who  had  one  beautiful  daughter.  This  young  lady  was 
seduced  by  the  Abbot  of  Newbattle,  a  richly  endowed  abbey, 
upon  the  banks  of  the  South  Esk,  now  a  seat  of  the  Marquis  of 
Lothian.  Heron  came  to  the  knowledge  of  this  circumstance, 
and  learned  also,  that  the  lovers  carried  on  their  guilty  inter- 
course by  the  connivance  of  the  lady's  nurse,  who  lived  at  this 
house  of  Gilmerton  Grange,  or  Burndale.  He  formed  a  resolu- 
tion of  bloody  vengeance,  undeterred  by  the  supposed  sanctity 
of  the  clerical  character,  or  by  the  stronger  claims  of  natural 
affection.  Choosing,  therefore,  a  dark  and  windy  night,  when 
the  objects  of  his  vengeance  were  engaged  in  a  stolen  interview, 
he  set  fire  to  a  stack  of  dried  thorns,  and  other  combustibles, 
which  he  had  caused  to  be  piled  against  the  house,  and  reduced 
to  a  pile  of  glowing  ashes  the  dwelling,  with  all  its  inmates. 

This  tradition  was  communicated  to  me  by  John  Clerk, 
Esq.  of  Eldin,  author  of  an  Essay  upon  Naval  Tactics,  who  will 

306 


NOTES 

be  remembered  by  posterity,  as  having  taught  the  genius  of 
Britain  to  concentrate  her  thunders,  and  to  launch  them 
against  her  foes  with  an  unerring  aim. 

Note  ii,  p.  69 

The  scene  with  which  the  ballad  opens  was  suggested  by  the 
following  curious  passage,  extracted  from  the  Life  of  Alexander 
Peden,  one  of  the  wandering  and  persecuted  teachers  of  the  sect 
of  Cameronians,  during  the  reign  of  Charles  II  and  his  succes- 
sor, James.  This  person  was  supposed  by  his  followers,  and, 
perhaps,  really  believed  himself,  to  be  possessed  of  supernatural 
gifts;  for  the  wild  scenes  which  they  frequented,  and  the  con- 
stant dangers  which  were  incurred  through  their  proscription, 
deepened  upon  their  minds  the  gloom  of  superstition,  so  general 
in  that  age. 

'About  the  same  time  he  [Peden]  came  to  Andrew  Normand's 
house,  in  the  parish  of  AUoway,  in  the  shire  of  Ayr,  being  to 
preach  at  night  in  his  barn.  After  he  came  in,  he  halted  a  little, 
leaning  upon  a  chair-back,  with  his  face  covered;  when  he  lifted 
up  his  head  he  said,  "They  are  in  this  house  that  I  have  not  one 
word  of  salvation  unto";  he  halted  a  little  again,  saying,  "This 
is  strange,  that  the  devil  will  not  go  out,  that  we  may  begin  our 
work!"  Then  there  was  a  woman  went  out,  ill-looked  upon 
almost  all  her  life,  and  to  her  dying  hour,  for  a  witch,  with 
many  presumptions  of  the  same.  It  escaped  me,  in  the  former 
passages,  what  John  Muirhead  (whom  I  have  often  mentioned) 
told  me,  that  when  he  came  from  Ireland  to  Galloway,  he  was  at 
family-worship,  and  giving  some  notes  upon  the  Scripture  read, 
when  a  very  ill-looking  man  came,  and  sat  down  within  the  door, 
at  the  back  of  the  hallan  [partition  of  the  cottage]:  immediately 
he  halted  and  said,  "There  is  some  unhappy  body  just  now  come 
into  this  house.  I  charge  him  to  go  out,  and  not  stop  my  mouth ! ' ' 
This  person  went  out,  and  he  insisted  [went  on],  yet  he  saw  him 
neither  come  in  nor  go  out.' 

A  friendly  correspondent  remarks,  'that  the  incapacity  of 

307 


NOTES 

proceeding  in  the  performance  of  a  religious  duty,  when  a  con- 
taminated person  is  present,  is  of  much  higher  antiquity  than 
the  era  of  the  Reverend  Mr.  Alexander  Peden.'  —  Vide  Hygini 
Fabulas,  cap.  26.  ^  Medea  Corintho  exul,  Athenas,  ad  Mgeum 
Pandionis  filium  devenit  in  hospitium,  eique  nupsit. 

—  '  Postea  sacerdos  DiancB  Medeam  exagitare  ccepit,  regique 
negebat  sacra  caste  facere  posse,  eo  quod  in  ea  civiiate  esset  mulier 
venefica  et  scelerata;  tunc  exulatur.' 

Note  12,  p.  72 

The  barony  of  Pennycuick,  the  property  of  Sir  George  Clerk, 
Bart.,  is  held  by  a  singular  tenure;  the  proprietor  being  bound 
to  sit  upon  a  large  rocky  fragment,  called  the  Buckstane,  and 
wind  three  blasts  of  a  horn,  when  the  king  shall  come  to  hunt 
on  the  Borough  Muir,  near  Edinburgh.  Hence,  the  family  have 
adopted,  as  their  crest,  a  demi-forester  proper,  winding  a  horn, 
with  the  motto,  Free  for  a  Blast. 

Note  13,  p.  72 

Auchendinny,  situated  upon  the  Eske,  below  Pennycuick,  the 
present  residence  of  H.  Mackenzie,  Esq.,  author  of  the  Man  of 
Feeling,  etc.,    [1803.] 

Note  14,  p.  72 

Hawthornden,  the  residence  of  the  poet  Drummond.  A  house 
of  more  modern  date  is  enclosed,  as  it  were,  by  the  ruins  of  the 
ancient  castle,  and  overhangs  a  tremendous  precipice,  upon  the 
banks  of  the  Eske,  perforated  by  winding  caves,  which,  in  former 
times,  were  a  refuge  to  the  oppressed  patriots  of  Scotland.  Here 
Drummond  received  Ben  Jonson,  who  journeyed  from  London, 
on  foot,  in  order  to  visit  him. 

Upon  the  whole,  tracing  the  Eske  from  its  source,  till  it  joins 
the  sea  at  Musselburgh,  no  stream  in  Scotland  can  boast  such  a 
varied  succession  of  the  most  interesting  objects,  as  well  as  of 
the  most  romantic  and  beautiful  scenery.     [1803.] 

308 


NOTES 

Note  15,  p.  75 

This  ballad  was  written  at  the  request  of  Mr.  Lewis,  to  be 
inserted  in  his  Tales  of  Wonder.  It  is  the  third  in  a  series  of  four 
ballads,  on  the  subject  of  Elementary  Spirits.  The  story,  how- 
ever, is  partly  historical,  for  it  is  recorded  that,  during  the  strug- 
gles of  the  Latin  kingdom  of  Jerusalem,  a  Knight  Templar  called 
Saint-Alban  deserted  to  the  Saracens,  and  defeated  the  Chris- 
tians in  many  combats,  till  he  was  finally  routed  and  slain  in  a 
conflict  with  King  Baldwin,  under  the  walls  of  Jerusalem. 

Note  16,  p.  95 

This  tale  is  imitated,  rather  than  translated,  from  a  fragment 
introduced  in  Goethe's  Claudina  Von  Villa  Bella,  where  it  is 
sung  by  a  member  of  a  gang  of  banditti,  to  engage  the  attention 
of  the  family,  while  his  companions  break  into  the  castle.  It 
owes  any  little  merit  it  may  possess  to  my  friend  Mr.  Lewis, 
to  whom  it  was  sent  in  an  extremely  rude  state;  and  who,  after 
some  material  improvements,  published  it  in  his  Tales  of 
Wonder. 

Note  17,  p.  100 

The  ruins  of  Cadyow,  or  Cadzow  Castle,  the  ancient  baronial 
residence  of  the  family  of  Hamilton,  are  situated  upon  the  pre- 
cipitous banks  of  the  river  Evan,  about  two  miles  above  its 
junction  with  the  Clyde.  It  was  dismantled,  in  the  conclusion  of 
the  Civil  Wars,  during  the  reign  of  the  unfortunate  Mary,  to 
whose  cause  the  house  of  Hamilton  devoted  themselves  with 
a  generous  zeal,  which  occasioned  their  temporary  obscurity, 
and,  very  nearly,  their  total  ruin.  The  situation  of  the  ruins, 
embosomed  in  wood,  darkened  by  ivy  and  creeping  shrubs, 
and  overhanging  the  brawling  torrent,  is  romantic  in  the  highest 
degree.  In  the  immediate  vicinity  of  Cadyow  is  a  grove  of  im- 
mense oaks,  the  remains  of  the  Caledonian  Forest,  which  an- 
ciently extended  through  the  south  of  Scotland,  from  the  eastern 

309 


NOTES 

to  the  Atlantic  Ocean.  Some  of  these  trees  measure  twenty-five 
feet,  and  upwards,  in  circumference;  and  the  state  of  decay  in 
which  they  now  appear  shows  that  they  have  witnessed  the  rites 
of  the  Druids.  The  whole  scenery  is  included  in  the  magnificent 
and  extensive  park  of  the  Duke  of  Hamilton.  There  was  long 
preserved  in  this  forest  the  breed  of  the  Scottish  wild  cattle,  un- 
til their  ferocity  occasioned  their  being  extirpated,  about  forty 
years  ago.  Their  appearance  was  beautiful,  being  milk-white, 
with  black  muzzles,  horns,  and  hoofs.  The  bulls  are  described 
by  ancient  authors  as  having  white  manes;  but  those  of  latter 
days  had  lost  that  peculiarity,  perhaps  by  intermixture  with  the 
tame  breed. 

In  detailing  the  death  of  the  Regent  Murray,  which  is  made 
the  subject  of  the  ballad,  it  would  be  injustice  to  my  reader  to 
use  other  words  than  those  of  Dr.  Robertson,  whose  account  of 
that  memorable  event  forms  a  beautiful  piece  of  historical  paint- 
ing. 

'Hamilton  of  Bothwellhaugh  was  the  person  who  committed 
this  barbarous  action.  He  had  been  condemned  to  death  soon 
after  the  battle  of  Langside,  as  we  have  already  related,  and 
owed  his  life  to  the  Regent's  clemency.  But  part  of  his  estate 
had  been  bestowed  upon  one  of  the  Regent's  favourites  [Sir 
James  Bellenden,  Lord  Justice-Clerk],  who  seized  his  house  and 
turned  out  his  wife,  naked,  in  a  cold  night,  into  the  open  fields, 
where,  before  next  morning,  she  became  furiously  mad.  This 
injury  made  a  deeper  impression  on  him  than  the  benefit  he  had 
received,  and  from  that  moment  he  vowed  to  be  revenged  of  the 
Regent.  Party  rage  strengthened  and  inflamed  his  private  re- 
sentment. His  kinsmen,  the  Hamiltons,  applauded  the  enter- 
prise. The  maxims  of  that  age  justified  the  most  desperate 
course  he  could  take  to  obtain  vengeance.  He  followed  the 
Regent  for  some  time,  and  watched  for  an  opportunity  to  strike 
the  blow.  He  resolved  at  last  to  wait  till  his  enemy  should  arrive 
at  Linlithgow,  through  which  he  was  to  pass  in  his  way  from 
Stirling  to  Edinburgh.  He  took  his  stand  in  a  wooden  gallery, 
which  had  a  window  towards  the  street;  spread  a  feather-bed 

310 


NOTES 

on  the  floor  to  hinder  the  noise  of  his  feet  from  being  heard ;  liiing 
up  a  black  cloth  behind  him,  that  his  shadow  might  not  be  ob" 
served  from  without;  and,  after  all  this  preparation,  calmly 
expected  the  Regent's  approach,  who  had  lodged,  during  the 
night,  in  a  house  not  far  distant.  Some  indistinct  information 
of  the  danger  which  threatened  him  had  been  conveyed  to  the 
Regent,  and  he  paid  so  much  regard  to  it  that  he  resolved  to 
return  by  the  same  gate  through  which  he  had  entered,  and  to 
fetch  a  compass  round  the  town.  But  as  the  crowd  about  the 
gate  was  great,  and  he  himself  unacquainted  with  fear,  he  pro- 
ceeded directly  along  the  street;  and  the  throng  of  people  oblig- 
ing him  to  move  very  slowly,  gave  the  assassin  time  to  take  so 
true  an  aim,  that  he  shot  him,  with  a  single  bullet  through  the 
lower  part  of  his  belly,  and  killed  the  horse  of  a  gentleman  who 
rode  on  his  other  side.  His  followers  instantly  endeavoured  to 
break  into  the  house  whence  the  blow  had  come;  but  they  found 
the  door  strongly  barricaded,  and,  before  it  could  be  forced  open, 
Hamilton  had  mounted  a  fleet  horse  which  stood  ready  for  him 
at  a  back  passage,  and  was  got  far  beyond  their  reach.  The 
Regent  died  the  same  night  of  his  wound.'  {History  oj  Scotland, 
Book  V.) 

*  Bothwellhaugh  rode  straight  to  Hamilton,  where  he  was  re- 
ceived in  triumph ;  for  the  ashes  of  the  houses  in  Clydesdale,which 
had  been  burned  by  Murray's  army,  were  yet  smoking;  and 
party  prejudice,  the  habits  of  the  age,  and  the  enormity  of  the 
provocation,  seemed  to  his  kinsmen  to  justify  the  deed.  After  a 
short  abode  at  Hamilton,  this  fierce  and  determined  man  left 
Scotland,  and  served  in  France,  under  the  patronage  of  the  fam- 
ily of  Guise,  to  whom  he  was  doubtless  recommended  by  having 
avenged  the  cause  of  their  niece,  Queen  Mary,  upon  her  ungrate- 
ful brother.  De  Thou  has  recorded  that  an  attempt  was  made 
to  engage  him  to  assassinate  Caspar  de  Coligni,  the  famous 
Admiral  of  France,  and  the  buckler  of  the  Huguenot  cause. 
But  the  character  of  Bothwellhaugh  was  mistaken.  He  was  no 
mercenary  trader  in  blood,  and  rejected  the  offer  with  contempt 
and  indignation.    He  had  no  authority,  he  said,  from  Scotland 


\ 


311 


NOTES 

to  commit  murders  in  France,  he  had  avenged  his  own  just 
quarrel,  but  he  would  neither,  for  price  nor  prayer,  avenge  that 
of  another  man.'    {Thuaniis,  cap.  46.) 

The  Regent's  death  happened  23d  January,  1569.  It  is 
applauded  or  stigmatized,  by  contemporary  historians,  accord- 
ing to  their  religious  or  party  prejudices.  The  triumph  of  Black- 
wood is  unbounded.  He  not  only  extols  the  pious  feat  of  Both- 
wellhaugh,  'who,'  he  observes,  'satisfied,  with  a  single  ounce  of 
lead,  him,  whose  sacrilegious  avarice  had  stripped  the  metro- 
politan church  of  St.  Andrews  of  its  covering' ;  but  he  ascribes  it 
to  immediate  divine  inspiration,  and  the  escape  of  Hamilton  to 
little  less  than  the  miraculous  interference  of  the  Deity. 
(Jebb,  vol.  II,  p.  263.)  With  equal  injustice,  it  was,  by  others, 
made  the  ground  of  a  general  national  reflection;  for,  when 
Mather  urged  Berney  to  assassinate  Burleigh,  and  quoted  the 
examples  of  Poltrot  and  Bothwellhaugh,  the  other  conspirator 
answered,  'that  neyther  Poltrot  nor  Hambleton  did  attempt 
their  enterprj'se,  without  some  reason  or  consideration  to  lead 
them  to  it;  as  the  one,  by  hyre,  and  promise  of  preferment  or 
rewarde;  the  other,  upon  desperate  mind  of  revenge,  for  a  lyttle 
wrong  done  unto  him,  as  the  report  goethe,  according  to  the 
vyle  tray terous  dysposysyon  of  the  hoole  natyon  of  the  Scottes.' 
(Murdin's  State  Papers,  vol.  i,  p.  197.) 

Note  18,  p.  102 

The  head  of  the  family  of  Hamilton  at  this  period,  was  James, 
Earl  of  Arran,  Duke  of  Chatelherault,  in  France,  and  first  peer 
of  the  Scottish  realm.  In  1569,  he  was  appointed  by  Queen  Mary 
her  lieutenant-general  in  Scotland,  under  the  singular  title  of 
her  adopted  father. 

Note  19,  p.  103 

Lord  Claud  Hamilton,  second  son  of  the  Duke  of  Chatelher- 
ault and  commendator  of  the  Abbey  of  Paisley,  acted  a  dis- 
tinguished part  during  the  troubles  of  Queen  Mar>''s  reign,  and 
remained  unalterably  attached  to  the  cause  of  that  unfortunate 

312 


NOTES 

princess.  He  led  the  van  of  her  army  at  the  fatal  battle  of  Lang« 
side,  and  was  one  of  the  commanders  at  the  Raid  of  Stirling, 
which  had  so  nearly  given  complete  success  to  the  queen's  fac- 
tion. 

Note  20,  p.  104 

This  barony,  stretching  along  the  banks  of  the  Esk,  near 
Auchendinny,  belonged  to  Bothwellhaugh,  in  right  of  his  wife. 
The  ruins  of  the  mansion,  from  whence  she  was  expelled  in  the 
brutal  manner  which  occasioned  her  death,  are  still  to  be  seen 
in  a  hollow  glen  beside  the  river.  Popular  report  tenants  them 
with  the  restless  ghost  of  the  Lady  Bothwellhaugh;  whom,  how- 
ever, it  confounds  with  Lady  Anne  Bothwell,  whose  Lament  is 
so  popular.  This  spectre  is  so  tenacious  of  her  rights,  that,  a  part 
of  the  stones  of  the  ancient  edifice  having  been  employed  in 
building  or  repairing  the  present  Woodhouselee,  she  has  deemed 
it  a  part  of  her  privilege  to  haunt  that  house  also;  and,  even  of 
very  late  years,  has  excited  considerable  disturbance  and  terror 
among  the  domestics.  This  is  a  more  remarkable  vindication  of 
the  rights  of  ghosts,  as  the  present  Woodhouselee  is  situated  on 
the  slope  of  the  Pentland  hills,  distant  at  least  four  miles  from 
her  proper  abode.  She  always  appears  in  white,  and  with  her 
child  in  her  arms. 

Note  21,  p.  105 

Birrel  informs  us,  that  Bothwellhaugh,  being  closely  pursued, 
'after  that  spur  and  wand  had  failed  him,  he  drew  forth  his 
dagger,  and  strocke  his  horse  behind,  whilk  caused  the  horse 
to  leap  a  very  brode  stanke  [i.e.,  ditch],  by  whilk  means  he 
escapit,  and  gat  away  from  all  the  rest  of  the  horses. '  {Diary, 
p.  18.) 

Note  22,  p.  106 

Murray's  death  took  place  shortly  after  an  expedition  to  the 
Borders. 

Note  23,  p.  106 

With  gun  cocked.  The  carbine  with  which  the  Regent  was 
shot  is  preserved  at  Hamilton  Palace.    It  is  a  brass  piece,  of  a 

313 


NOTES 

middling  length,  very  small  in  the  bore,  and,  what  Is  rather  ex- 
traordinary, appears  to  have  been  rifled  or  indented  in  the  bar- 
rel. It  had  a  matchlock,  for  which  a  modern  firelock  has  been 
injudiciously  substituted. 

Note  24,  p.  106 

Of  this  noted  person  it  is  enough  to  say  that  he  was  active  in 
the  murder  of  David  Rizzio,  and  at  least  privy  to  that  of 
Darnley. 

Note  25,  p.  106 

This  clan  of  Lennox  Highlanders  were  attached  to  the  Regent 
Murray.  Holinshed,  speaking  of  the  battle  of  Langside,  says, 
'In  this  batayle  the  valiancie  of  an  Heiland  gentleman,  named 
Macfarlane,  stood  the  Regent's  part  in  great  steede;  for,  in  the 
hottest  brunte  of  the  fighte,  he  came  up  with  two  hundred  of  his 
friendes  and  countrymen,  and  so  manfully  gave  in  upon  the 
flankes  of  the  Queen's  people,  that  he  was  a  great  cause  of  the 
disordering  of  them.  This  Macfarlane  had  been  lately  before,  as 
I  have  heard,  condemned  to  die,  for  some  outrage  by  him  com- 
mitted, and  obtaining  pardon  through  suyte  of  the  Countess  of 
Murray,  he  recompensed  that  clemencie  by  this  piece  of  service 
now  at  this  batayle.'  Calderwood's  account  is  less  favourable  to 
the  Macfarlanes.  He  states  that  '  Macfarlane,  with  his  High- 
landmen,  fled  from  the  wing  where  they  were  set.  The  Lord 
Lindsay,  who  stood  nearest  to  them  in  the  Regent's  battle,  said, 
"Let  them  go,  I  shall  fill  their  place  better";  and  so,  stepping 
forward,  with  a  company  of  fresh  men,  charged  the  enemy, 
whose  spears  were  now  spent,  with  long  weapons,  so  that  they 
were  driven  back  by  force,  being  before  almost  overthrown  by 
the  avaunt-guard  and  harquebusiers,  and  so  were  turned  to 
flight.'  (Calderwood's  MS.  apiid  Keith,  p.  480.)  Melville  men- 
tions the  flight  of  the  vanguard,  but  states  it  to  have  been  com- 
manded by  Morton,  and  composed  chiefly  of  commoners  of  the 
barony  of  Renfrew. 

314 


NOTES 

Note  26,  p.  106 

The  Earl  of  Glencairn  was  a  steady  adherent  of  the  Regent. 
George  Douglas  of  Parkhead  was  a  natural  brother  of  the  Earl  of 
Morton,  whose  horse  was  killed  by  the  same  ball  by  which 
Murray  fell. 

Note  27,  p.  106 

Lord  Lindsay,  of  the  Byres,  was  the  most  ferocious  and  brutal 
of  the  Regent's  faction,  and,  as  such,  was  employed  to  extort 
Mary's  signature  to  the  deed  of  resignation  presented  to  her  in 
Lochleven  Castle.  He  discharged  his  commission  with  the  most 
savage  rigour;  and  it  is  even  said  that  when  the  weeping  cap- 
tive, in  the  act  of  signing,  averted  her  eyes  from  the  fatal  deed, 
he  pinched  her  arm  with  the  grasp  of  his  iron  glove. 

Note  28,  p.  107 

Not  only  had  the  Regent  notice  of  the  intended  attempt  upon 
his  life,  but  even  of  the  very  house  from  which  it  was  threatened. 
With  that  infatuation  at  which  men  wonder,  after  such  events 
have  happened,  he  deemed  it  would  be  a  sufificient  precaution 
to  ride  briskly  past  the  dangerous  spot.  But  even  this  was  pre- 
vented by  the  crowd ;  so  that  Bothwellhaugh  had  time  to  take 
a  deliberate  aim.    (Spottiswoode,  p.  233.) 

Note  29,  p.  108 

An  oak,  half-sawn,  with  the  motto  through,  is  an  ancient 
cognizance  of  the  family  of  Hamilton. 

Note  30,  p.  112 

At  Linton,  in  Roxburghshire,  there  is  a  circle  of  stones  sur- 
rounding a  smooth  plot  of  turf,  called  the  tryst,  or  place  of  ap- 
pointment, which  tradition  avers  to  have  been  the  rendezvous 
of  the  neighbouring  warriors.  The  name  of  the  leader  was  cut 
in  the  turf,  and  the  arrangement  of  the  letters  announced  to  his 
followers  the  course  which  he  had  taken. 


315 


NOTES 

Note  31,  p.  115 

In  the  reign  of  Charles  I,  when  the  moss-trooping  practices 
were  not  entirely  discontinued,  the  tower  of  Gilnockie,  in  the 
parish  of  Cannoby,  was  occupied  by  William  Armstrong,  called, 
for  distinction's  sake,  Christie's  Will,  a  lineal  descendant  of  the 
famous  John  Armstrong,  of  Gilnockie,  executed  by  James  V. 
The  hereditary  love  of  plunder  had  descended  to  this  person 
with  the  family  mansion;  and  upon  some  marauding  party,  he 
was  seized,  and  imprisoned  in  the  tolbooth  of  Jedburgh.  The 
Earl  of  Traquair,  Lord  High  Treasurer,  happening  to  visit  Jed- 
burgh, and  knowing  Christie's  Will,  inquired  the  cause  of  his 
confinement.  Will  replied,  he  was  imprisoned  for  stealing  two 
tethers  (halters);  but,  upon  being  more  closely  interrogated, 
acknowledged  that  there  were  two  delicate  colts  at  the  end  of 
them.  The  joke,  such  as  it  was,  amused  the  Earl,  who  exerted 
his  interest,  and  succeeded  in  releasing  Christie's  W'ill  from 
bondage.  Some  time  afterwards,  a  lawsuit,  of  importance  to 
Lord  Traquair,  was  to  be  decided  in  the  Court  of  Session ;  and 
there  was  every  reason  to  believe  that  the  judgment  would  turn 
upon  the  voice  of  the  presiding  judge,  who  has  a  casting-vote, 
in  case  of  an  equal  division  among  his  brethren.  The  opinion 
of  the  President  was  unfavourable  to  Lord  Traquair;  and  the 
point  was,  therefore,  to  keep  him  out  of  the  way  when  the 
question  should  be  tried.  In  this  dilemma,  the  Earl  had  recourse 
to  Christie's  Will ;  who,  at  once,  offered  his  service  to  kidnap  the 
president.  Upon  due  scrutiny,  he  found  it  was  the  judge's  prac- 
tice frequently  to  take  the  air,  on  horseback,  on  the  sands  of 
Leith,  without  an  attendant.  In  one  of  these  excursions,  Chris- 
tie's Will,  who  had  long  watched  his  opportunity,  ventured  to 
accost  the  president,  and  engage  him  in  conversation.  His 
address  and  language  were  so  amusing,  that  he  decoyed  the 
president  into  an  unfrequented  and  furzy  common,  called  the 
Frigate  Whins,  where,  riding  suddenly  up  to  him,  he  pulled  him 
from  his  horse,  muffled  him  in  a  large  cloak,  which  he  had  pro- 
vided, and  rode  off,  with  the  luckless  judge  trussed  up  behind 

316 


NOTES 

him.  Will  crossed  the  country  with  great  expedition,  by  paths 
known  only  to  persons  of  his  description,  and  deposited  his 
weary  and  terrified  burden  in  an  old  castle,  in  Annandale,  called 
the  Tower  of  Graham.^  The  judge's  horse  being  found,  it  was 
concluded  he  had  thrown  his  rider  into  the  sea;  his  friends  went 
into  mourning,  and  a  successor  was  appointed  to  his  office. 
Meanwhile,  the  poor  president  spent  a  heavy  time  in  the  vault  of 
the  castle.  He  was  imprisoned,  and  solitary;  receiving  his  food 
through  an  aperture  in  the  wall,  and  never  hearing  the  sound 
of  a  human  voice,  save  when  a  shepherd  called  his  dog,  by  the 
name  of  Batty,  and  when  a  female  domestic  called  upon  Maudge, 
the  cat.  These,  he  concluded  were  invocations  of  spirits;  for  he 
held  himself  to  be  in  the  dungeon  of  a  sorcerer.  At  length,  after 
three  months  had  elapsed,  the  lawsuit  was  decided  in  favour 
of  Lord  Traquair;  and  Will  was  directed  to  set  the  president  at 
liberty.  Accordingly,  he  entered  the  vault  at  dead  of  night, 
seized  the  president,  muffled  him  once  more  in  the  cloak,  with- 
out speaking  a  single  word,  and,  using  the  same  mode  of  trans- 
portation, conveyed  him  to  Leith  sands,  and  set  down  the  aston- 
ished judge  on  the  very  spot  where  he  had  taken  him  up.  The 
joy  of  his  friends,  and  the  less  agreeable  surprise  of  his  successor, 
may  be  easily  conceived,  when  he  appeared  in  court,  to  reclaim 
his  office  and  honours.  All  embraced  his  own  persuasion,  that 
he  had  been  spirited  away  by  witchcraft ;  nor  could  he  himself 
be  convinced  of  the  contrary,  until,  many  years  afterwards, 
happening  to  travel  in  Annandale,  his  ears  were  saluted  once 
more  with  the  sounds  of  Maudge  and  Batty  —  the  only  notes 
which  had  solaced  his  long  confinement.  This  led  to  a  discovery 
of  the  whole  story;  but,  in  those  disorderly  times,  it  was  only 
laughed  at,  as  a  fair  ruse  de  guerre. 

Wild  and  strange  as  this  tradition  may  seem,  there  is  little 
doubt  of  its  foundation  in  fact.  The  judge,  upon  whose  person 
this  extraordinary  stratagem  was  practised,  was  Sir  Alexander 
Gibson,  Lord  Durie,  collector  of  the  reports,  well  known  in  the 
Scottish  law,  under  the  title  of  Durie's  Decisions.  He  was 
•  It  stands  upon  the  water  of  Dryfe,  not  far  from  Moffat. 


NOTES 

advanced  to  the  station  of  an  ordinary  Lord  of  Session,  loth 
July  1621,  and  died,  at  his  own  house  of  Durie,  July  1646. 
Betwixt  these  periods  this  whimsical  adventure  must  have  hap- 
pened ;  a  date  which  corresponds  with  that  of  the  tradition. 

'We  may  frame,'  says  Forbes,  'a  rational  conjecture  of  his 
great  learning  and  parts,  not  only  from  his  collection  of  the 
decisions  of  the  Session,  from  July  1621,  till  July  1642,  but  also 
from  the  following  circumstances:  I.  In  a  tract  of  more  as 
twenty  years,  he  was  frequently  chosen  vice-president,  and  no 
other  lord  in  that  time.  2.  'T  is  commonly  reported,  that  some 
party,  in  a  considerable  action  before  the  Session,  finding  that 
the  Lord  Durie  could  not  be  persuaded  to  think  his  plea  good, 
fell  upon  a  stratagem  to  prevent  the  influence  and  weight  which 
his  lordship  might  have  to  his  prejudice,  by  causing  some  strong 
masked  men  kidnap  him,  in  the  Links  of  Leith,  at  his  diversion 
on  a  Saturday  afternoon,  and  transport  him  to  some  blind  and 
obscure  room  in  the  country,  where  he  was  detained  captive, 
without  the  benefit  of  daylight,  a  matter  of  three  months 
(though  otherwise  civilly  and  well  entertained) ;  during  which 
time  his  lady  and  children  went  in  mourning  for  him  as  dead. 
But  after  the  cause  aforesaid  was  decided,  the  Lord  Durie  was 
carried  back  by  incognitos,  and  dropt  in  the  same  place  where 
he  had  been  taken  up.'  (Forbes's  Journal  of  the  Session,  Edin. 
1714.     Preface,  p.  28. ) 

Tradition  ascribes  to  Christie's  Will  another  memorable  feat, 
which  seems  worthy  of  being  recorded.  It  is  well  known  that, 
during  the  troubles  of  Charles  I,  the  Earl  of  Traquair  continued 
unalterably  fixed  in  his  attachment  to  his  unfortunate  master,  in 
whose  service  he  hazarded  his  person  and  impoverished  his  estate. 
It  was  of  consequence,  it  is  said,  to  the  King's  service,  that  a 
certain  packet,  containing  papers  of  importance,  should  be  trans- 
mitted to  him  from  Scotland.  But  the  task  was  a  difficult  one, 
as  the  Parliamentary  leaders  used  their  utmost  endeavours  to 
prevent  any  communication  betwixt  the  King  and  his  Scottish 
friends.  Traquair,  in  this  strait,  again  had  recourse  to  the  ser- 
vice of  Christie's  Will ;  who  undertook  the  commission,  conveyed 

318 


NOTES 

the  papers  safely  to  his  majesty,  and  received  an  answer,  to  be 
delivered  to  Lord  Traquair.  But,  in  the  meantime,  his  embassy 
had  taken  air,  and  Cromwell  had  despatched  orders  to  inter- 
cept him  at  Carlisle.  Christie's  Will,  unconscious  of  his  danger, 
halted  in  the  town  to  refresh  his  horse,  and  then  pursued  his 
journey.  But,  as  soon  as  he  began  to  pass  the  long,  high,  and 
narrow  bridge  which  crosses  the  Eden  at  Carlisle,  either  end  of 
the  pass  was  occupied  by  a  party  of  Parliamentary  soldiers,  who 
were  lying  in  wait  for  him.  The  Borderer  disdained  to  resign  his 
enterprise,  even  in  these  desperate  circumstances;  and  at  once 
forming  his  resolution,  spurred  his  horse  over  the  parapet.  The 
river  was  in  high  flood.  Will  sunk  —  the  soldiers  shouted  — 
he  emerged  again,  and  guiding  his  horse  to  a  steep  bank,  called 
the  Stanners,  or  Stanhouse,  endeavoured  to  land,  but  ineffectu- 
ally, owing  to  his  heavy  horseman's  cloak,  now  drenched  in 
water.  Will  cut  the  loop,  and  the  horse,  feeling  himself  disem- 
barrassed, made  a  desperate  exertion,  and  succeeded  in  gaining 
the  bank.  Our  hero  set  off,  at  full  speed,  pursued  by  the  troop- 
ers, who  had  for  a  time  stood  motionless  in  astonishment,  at  his 
temerity.  Will,  however,  was  well  mounted;  and,  having  got 
the  start,  he  kept  it,  menacing,  with  his  pistols,  any  pursuer  who 
seemed  likely  to  gain  on  him  —  an  artifice  which  succeeded, 
although  the  arms  were  wet  and  useless.  He  was  chased  to  the 
river  Esk,  which  he  swam  without  hesitation;  and,  finding  him- 
self on  Scottish  ground,  and  in  the  neighbourhood  of  friends,  he 
turned  on  the  northern  bank,  and,  in  the  true  spirit  of  a  border- 
rider,  invited  his  followers  to  come  through,  and  drink  with  him. 
After  this  taunt,  he  proceeded  on  his  journey,  and  faithfully 
accomplished  his  mission.  Such  were  the  exploits  of  the  very 
last  Border  freebooter  of  any  note. 

The  reader  is  not  to  regard  the  ballad  as  of  genuine  and  un- 
mixed antiquity,  though  some  stanzas  are  current  upon  the 
Border,  in  a  corrupted  state.  They  have  been  eked  and  joined 
together  in  the  rude  and  ludicrous  manner  of  the  original;  but 
it  must  be  considered  as,  on  the  whole,  a  modern  ballad. 


319 


NOTES 

Note  32,  p.  119 

'As  for  the  rencounter  betwixt  Mr.  VVilHamson,  schoolmaster 
at  Cowper  (who  has  wrote  a  grammar),  and  the  Rosicrucians,  I 
never  trusted  it,  till  I  heard  it  from  his  own  son,  who  is  present 
minister  of  Kirkaldy.  He  tells,  that  a  stranger  came  to  Cowper 
and  called  for  him:  after  they  had  drank  a  little,  and  the  reckon- 
ing came  to  be  paid,  he  whistled  for  spirits;  one,  in  the  shape  of 
a  boy,  came,  and  gave  him  gold  in  abundance ;  no  servant  was 
seen  riding  with  him  to  the  town,  nor  enter  with  him  into  the 
inn.  He  caused  his  spirits,  against  next  day,  bring  him  noble 
Greek  wine  from  the  Pope's  cellar,  and  tell  the  freshest  news 
then  at  Rome;  then  trysted  Mr.  Williamson  at  London,  who  met 
the  same  man  in  a  coach,  near  to  London  Bridge,  and  who  called 
on  him  by  his  name;  he  marvelled  to  see  any  know  him  there; 
at  last  he  found  it  was  his  Rosicrucian.  He  pointed  to  a  tavern, 
and  desired  Mr.  Williamson  to  do  him  the  favour  to  dine  with 
him  at  that  house;  whither  he  came  at  twelve  o'clock,  and 
found  him  and  many  others  of  good  fashion  there,  and  a  most 
splendid  and  magnificent  table,  furnished  with  all  the  varieties 
of  delicate  meats,  where  they  are  all  served  by  spirits.  At  dinner, 
they  debated  upon  the  excellency  of  being  attended  by  spirits; 
and,  after  dinner,  they  proposed  to  him  to  assume  him  into  their 
society,  and  make  him  participant  of  their  happy  life;  but 
among  the  other  conditions  and  qualifications  requisite,  this 
was  one,  that  they  demanded  his  abstracting  his  spirit  from  all 
materiality,  and  renouncing  his  baptismal  engagements.  Being 
amazed  at  this  proposal,  he  falls  a-praying;  whereat  they  all 
disappear,  and  leave  him  alone.  Then  he  began  to  forethink 
what  would  become  of  him,  if  he  were  left  to  pay  that  vast 
reckoning;  not  having  as  much  on  him  as  would  defray  it.  He 
calls  the  boy,  and  asks,  what  was  become  of  these  gentlemen, 
and  what  was  to  pay?  He  answered,  there  was  nothing  to  pay, 
for  they  had  done  it,  and  were  gone  about  their  affairs  in  the 
city.'  {FoimlainhaW s  Decisions,  vol.  i,  p.  15.)  With  great 
deference  to  the  learned  reporter,  this  story  has  all  the  ap- 

320 


NOTES 

pearance  of  a  joke  upon  the  poor  schoolmaster,  calculated  at 
once  to  operate  upon  his  credulity,  and  upon  his  fears  of  being 
left  in  pawn  for  the  reckoning. 

Note  33,  p.  119 

Besides  the  prophetic  powers  ascribed  to  the  gipsies  in  most 
European  countries,  the  Scottish  peasants  believe  them  pos- 
sessed of  the  power  of  throwing  upon  bystanders  a  spell,  to  fas- 
cinate their  eyes,  and  cause  them  to  see  the  thing  that  is  not. 
Thus  in  the  old  ballad  of  'Johnie  Faa,'  the  elopement  of  the 
Countess  of  Cassillis,  with  a  gipsy  leader,  is  imputed  to  fasci- 
nation :  — 

As  sune  as  they  saw  her  weel-far'd  face. 
They  cast  the  glamour  ower  her. 

Saxo  Grammaticus  mentions  a  particular  sect  of  Mathematicians, 
as  he  is  pleased  to  call  them,  who,  per  siimmam  ludificandorum 
oculorum  peritiam,  proprios  alienosque  vultus,  variis  rerum 
imaginihus,  adumbrare  callebant;  illicibusgue  formis  veros  obscu- 
rare  conspectus.'  Merlin,  the  son  of  Ambrose,  was  particularly 
skilled  in  this  art,  and  displays  it  often  in  the  old  metrical  ro- 
mance of  Arthour  and  Merlin:  — 

Tho'  thai  corn  the  Kinges  neighe 
Merlin  hef  his  heued  on  heighe 
And  kest  on  hem  enchauntement 
That  he  hem  alle  allmest  blent 
That  none  other  sen  no  might 
A  gret  while  y  you  plight,  etc. 

The  jongleurs  were  also  great  professors  of  this  mystery,  which 
has  in  some  degree  descended,  with  their  name,  on  the  modern 
jugglers.  But  durst  Breslaw,  the  Sieur  Boaz,  or  Katterfelto 
himself,  have  encountered,  in  a  magical  sleight,  the  tragetoures 
of  Father  Chaucer,  who 

within  a  hall  large 

Have  made  come  in  a  water  and  a  barge, 
And  in  the  halle  rowen  up  and  down; 
Somtime  hath  seemed  come  a  grim  leoun, 
And  somtime  flowres  spring  as  in  a  mede, 
Somtime  a  vine  and  grapes  white  and  rede, 
Somtime  a  castel  al  of  lime  and  ston; 
And  when  hem  liketh  voideth  it  anon. 
Thus  seemeth  it  to  every  mannes  sight. 

FrankeUene's  Tale. 
46  321 


NOTES 

And  again,  the  prodigies  exhibited  by  the  Clerk  of  Orleans  to 
Aurelius:  — 

.  He  shewd  him  or  they  went  to  soupere 
Forestes,  parkes,  ful  of  wilde  dere; 
Ther  saw  he  hartes  with  hir  homes  hie, 
The  gretest  that  were  ever  seen  with  eie: 
He  saw  of  hem  an  hundred  slain  with  houndes, 
And  some  with  arwes  blede  of  bitter  woundes; 
He  saw,  when  voided  were  the  wilde  dere, 
Thise  fauconers  upon  a  fair  rivere. 
That  with  hir  haukes  han  the  heron  slain: 
Tho  saw  he  knightes  justen  on  a  plain; 
And  after  this  he  did  him  swiche  plesance. 
That  he  him  shewd  his  lady  on  a  dance. 
On  which  himselven  danced,  as  him  thought: 
And  whan  this  maister  that  this  magike  wrought 
Saw  it  was  time,  he  clapt  his  handes  two, 
And  farewell!  all  the  revel  is  ago. 
And  yet  remued  they  never  out  of  the  house. 
While  they  saw  all  thise  sights  merveillous: 
But  in  his  studie  ther  his  bookes  be. 
They  saten  still  and  no  wight  but  this  three. 

Ibid. 

Our  modern  professors  of  the  magic  natural  would  likewise 
have  been  sorely  put  down  by  the  Jogulours  and  Enchantours 
of  the  Crete  Chan;  '  for  they  maken  to  come  in  the  air  the  sone 
and  the  mone,  beseminge  to  every  mannes  sight;  and  aftre,  they 
maken  the  nyght  so  dirke,  that  no  man  may  se  nothing;  and 
aftre,  they  maken  the  day  to  come  agen,  fair  and  plesant,  with 
bright  sone  to  every  mannes  sight;  and  than,  they  bringen  in 
daunces  of  the  fairest  damyselles  of  the  world,  and  richest 
arrayed ;  and  aftre,  they  maken  to  comen  in  other  damyselles, 
bringing  coupes  of  gold,  fulle  of  mylke  of  diverse  bestes;  and 
geven  drinke  to  lordes  and  to  ladyes;  and  than  they  maken 
knyghtes  to  justen  in  armes  fulle  lustyly;  and  they  rennen 
togidre  a  gret  randoun,  and  they  frusschen  togidre  full  fiercely, 
and  they  broken  her  speres  so  rudely,  that  the  trenchouns  flen 
in  sprotis  and  pieces  alle  aboute  the  halle;  and  than  they  make  to 
come  in  hunting  for  the  hert  and  for  the  boor,  with  houndes 
renning  with  open  mouthe:  and  many  other  things  they  dow  of 
her  enchauntements,  that  it  is  marveyle  for  to  see.'  (Sir  John 
Mandeville's  Travels,  p.  285.) 

I  question  much,  also,  if  the  most  artful  illuminatus  of  Ger- 

322 


NOTES 

many  could  have  matched  the  prodigies  exhibited  by  Pacolet 
and  Adramain,  'Adonc  Adramain  leva  tine  cappe  par  dessus  une 
pillier,  et  en  telle  sort,  qu  'il  sembla  a  ceux  qui  furent  presens,  que 
parmi  la  place  couroit  une  riviere  fort  grande  et  terrible.  Et  en 
icelle  riviere  sembloit  avoir  poissons  en  grand  abondance,  grands 
et  petits.  Et  quand  ceux  de  palais  virent  I'eau  si  grande,  Us  com- 
mencerent  tons  a  lever  leur  robes,  et  a  crier  fort,  comme  s'  Us 
eussent  eu  peur  d'estre  noyes;  et  Pacolet,  qui  V enchantement 
regarda,  commenca  a  chanter,  et  fit  en  sort  si  subtil  en  son  chant 
qu'il  sembla  a  tons  ceux  de  lieu  que  parmy  la  riviere  couroit  un 
cerf  grand  et  cornu,  quijettoit  et  abbatoit  a  terre  tout  ce  que  devant 
lui  trouvoit,  puis  leur  fut  advis  que  voyoyent  chasseurs  et  veneurs 
courir  apris  le  Cerf,  avec  grande  puissance  de  levriers  et  des  chiens. 
Lors  y  eut  plusieurs  de  la  campagnie  qui  saillirent  au  devant  pour 
le  Cerf  attraper  et  cuyder  prendre;  mais  Pacolet  fist  tost  le  Cerf 
sailer.  "Bien  avez  joue,"  dit  Orson,  "et  bien  scavez  vostre  art 
user."'  (L'Histoire  des  Valentin  et  Orson,  k  Rouen,  1631.) 

The  receipt,  to  prevent  the  operation  of  these  deceptions,  was, 
to  use  a  sprig  of  four-leaved  clover.  I  remember  to  have  heard 
(certainly  very  long  ago,  for  at  that  time  I  believed  the  legend), 
that  a  gipsy  exercised  his  glamour  over  a  number  of  people  at 
Haddington,  to  whom  he  exhibited  a  common  dunghill  cock, 
trailing,  what  appeared  to  the  spectators,  a  massy  oaken  trunk. 
An  old  man  passed  with  a  cart  of  clover;  he  stopped,  and  picked 
out  a  four-leaved  blade;  the  eyes  of  the  spectators  were  opened, 
and  the  oaken  trunk  appeared  to  be  a  bulrush. 

Note  34,  p,  119 

Human  nature  shrinks  from  the  brutal  scenes  produced  by 
the  belief  in  witchcraft.  Under  the  idea  that  the  devil  imprinted 
upon  the  body  of  his  miserable  vassals  a  mark,  which  was  in- 
sensible to  pain,  persons  were  employed  to  run  needles  into  the 
bodies  of  the  old  women  who  were  suspected  of  witchcraft.  In 
the  dawning  of  common  sense  upon  this  subject,  a  complaint 
was  made  before  the  Privy  Council  of  Scotland,  nth  September, 

323 


NOTES 

1678,  by  Catherine  Liddell,  a  poor  woman,  against  the  Baron- 
bailie  of  Preston  Grange,  and  David  Cowan  (a  professed  pricker), 
for  having  imprisoned,  and  most  cruelly  tortured  her.  They 
answered,  1st,  she  was  searched  by  her  own  consent,  et  volenti 
nonfit  injuria;  2d,  the  pricker  had  learned  his  trade  from  Kin- 
caid,  a  famed  pricker;  3d,  he  never  acted,  but  when  called  upon 
by  magistrates  or  clergymen,  so  what  he  did  was  auctore  prcetore; 
4th,  his  trade  was  lawful;  5th,  Perkins,  Delrio,  and  all  divines 
and  lawyers,  who  treat  of  witchcraft,  assert  the  existence  of  the 
marks,  or  stigmata  sagarum;  and,  6thly,  were  it  otherwise,  Error 
communis  facit  jus.  —  Answered,  1st,  denies  consent;  2d,  no- 
body can  validly  consent  to  their  own  torture;  for  Nemo  est 
dominus  membrorum  suorum;  3d,  the  pricker  was  a  common 
cheat.  The  last  arguments  prevailed;  and  it  was  found,  that 
inferior  'judges  might  not  use  any  torture,  by  pricking,  or  by 
withholding  them  from  sleep';  the  council  reserving  all  that  to 
themselves,  the  justices,  and  those  acting  by  commission  from 
them.  But  Lord  Durie,  a  judge  of  the  Court  of  Session,  could 
have  no  share  in  such  inflictions. 


Note  35,  p.  121 

Few  personages  are  so  renowned  in  tradition  as  Thomas  of 
Ercildoune,  known  by  the  appellation  of  The  Rhymer.  Uniting, 
or  supposing  to  unite,  in  his  person,  the  powers  of  poetical  com- 
position, and  of  vaticination,  his  memory,  even  after  the  lapse 
of  five  hundred  years,  is  regarded  with  veneration  by  his  coun- 
trymen. To  give  anything  like  a  certain  history  of  this  remark- 
able man  would  be  indeed  difficult;  but  the  curious  may  derive 
some  satisfaction  from  the  particulars  here  brought  together. 

It  is  agreed  on  all  hands,  that  the  residence,  and  probably  the 
birthplace,  of  this  ancient  bard,  was  Ercildoune,  a  village  situ- 
ated upon  the  Leader,  two  miles  above  its  junction  with  the 
Tweed.  The  ruins  of  an  ancient  tower  are  still  pointed  out  as  the 
Rhymer's  castle.  The  uniform  tradition  bears,  that  his  surname 
was  Lermont,  or  Learmont;  and  that  the  appellation  of  The 

324 


NOTES 

Rhymer  was  conferred  on  him  in  consequence  of  his  poetical  com- 
positions. There  remains,  nevertheless,  some  doubt  upon  the 
subject.  In  a  charter,  the  son  of  our  poet  designed  himself 
'Thomas  of  Ercildoun,  son  and  heir  of  Thomas  Rymour  of 
Ercildoun,'  which  seems  to  imply  that  the  father  did  not  bear 
the  hereditary  name  of  Learmont;  or,  at  least,  was  better 
known  and  distinguished  by  the  epithet,  which  he  had  ac- 
quired by  his  personal  accomplishments.  I  must,  however,  re- 
mark, that,  down  to  a  very  late  period,  the  practice  of  distin- 
guishing the  parties,  even  in  formal  writings,  by  the  epithets 
which  had  been  bestowed  on  them  from  personal  circum- 
stances, instead  of  the  proper  surnames  of  their  families,  was 
common,  and  indeed  necessary,  among  the  Border  clans.  So 
early  as  the  end  of  the  thirteenth  century,  when  surnames  were 
hardly  introduced  in  Scotland,  this  custom  must  have  been 
universal.  There  is,  therefore,  nothing  inconsistent  in  supposing 
our  poet's  name  to  have  been  actually  Learmont,  although,  in 
this  charter,  he  is  distinguished  by  the  popular  appellation  of 
The  Rhymer. 

We  are  better  able  to  ascertain  the  period  at  which  Thomas 
of  Ercildoune  lived,  being  the  latter  end  of  the  thirteenth  cen- 
tury. I  am  inclined  to  place  his  death  a  little  further  back  than 
Mr.  Pinkerton,  who  supposes  that  he  was  alive  in  1300  (List  of 
Scottish  Poets),  which  is  hardly,  I  think,  consistent  with  the 
charter  already  quoted,  by  which  his  son,  in  1299,  for  himself 
and  his  heirs,  conveys  to  the  convent  of  the  Trinity  of  Soltra, 
the  tenement  which  he  possessed  by  inheritance  Qiereditarie) 
in  Ercildoune,  with  all  claim  which  he  or  his  predecessors  could 
pretend  thereto.  From  this  we  may  infer,  that  the  Rhymer  was 
now  dead,  since  we  find  the  son  disposing  of  the  family  property. 
Still,  however,  the  argument  of  the  learned  historian  will  remain 
unimpeached  as  to  the  time  of  the  poet's  birth.  For  if,  as  we 
learn  from  Barbour,  his  prophecies  were  held  in  reputation  ^ 

•  The  lines  alluded  to  are  these:  — 

I  hope  that  Thomas's  prophecie, 
Of  Erceldoun,  shall  truly  be, 
In  him,  etc.      t 


NOTES 

as  early  as  1306,  when  Bruce  slew  the  Red  Cummin,  the  sanctity, 
and  (let  me  add  to  Mr.  Pinkerton's  words)  the  uncertainty  of 
antiquity,  must  have  already  involved  his  character  and  writ- 
ings. In  a  charter  of  Peter  de  Haga  de  Bemersyde,  which  unfor- 
tunately wants  a  date,  the  Rhymer,  a  near  neighbour,  and,  if  we 
may  trust  tradition,  a  friend  of  the  family,  appears  as  a  witness. 
{Chartidary  of  Melrose) 

It  cannot  be  doubted,  that  Thomas  of  Ercildoune  was  a  re- 
markable and  important  person  in  his  own  time,  since,  very 
shortly  after  his  death,  we  find  him  celebrated  as  a  prophet  and 
as  a  poet.  Whether  he  himself  made  any  pretensions  to  the  first 
of  these  characters,  or  whether  it  was  gratuitously  conferred 
upon  him  by  the  credulity  of  posterity,  it  seems  difficult  to 
decide.  If  we  may  believe  Mackenzie,  Learmont  only  versified 
the  prophecies  delivered  by  Eliza,  an  inspired  nun  of  a  convent 
at  Haddington.  But  of  this  there  seems  not  to  be  the  most  dis- 
tant proof.  On  the  contrary,  all  ancient  authors,  who  quote  the 
Rhymer's  prophecies,  uniformly  suppose  them  to  have  been 
emitted  by  himself.    Thus,  in  Wintown's  Chronicle  — 

Of  this  fycht  quilum  spak  Thomas 

Of  Ersyldoune,  that  sayd  in  deme. 

There  suld  meit  stalwartly,  Starke  and  steme. 

He  sayd  it  in  his  prophecy; 

But  how  he  wist  it  was  ferly. 

Book  VIII,  chap.  33. 

There  could  have  been  no  ferly  (marvel)  in  Wintown's  eyes 
at  least,  how  Thomas  came  by  his  knowledge  of  future  events, 
had  he  ever  heard  of  the  inspired  nun  of  Haddington,  which,  it 
cannot  be  doubted,  would  have  been  a  solution  of  the  mystery, 
much  to  the  taste  of  the  Prior  of  Lochleven.^ 

'  Henry  the  Minstrel,  who  introduces  Thomas  into  the  history  of  Wallace, 
expresses  the  same  doubt  as  to  the  source  of  his  prophetic  knowledge:  — 

Thomas  Rhymer  into  the  faile  was  than 
With  the  minister,  which  was  a  worthy  man. 
He  used  oft  to  that  religious  place; 
The  people  deemed  of  wit  he  meikle  can, 
And  so  he  told,  though  that  they  bless  or  ban. 
In  rule  of  war  whether  they  tint  or  wan: 
Which  happened  sooth  in  many  divers  case; 
I  cannot  say  by  wrong  or  righteousness. 
It  may  be  deemed  by  division  of  grace,  etc. 

History  of  Wallace,  Book  11. 

326 


NOTES 

Whatever  doubts,  however,  the  learned  might  have,  as  to 
the  source  of  the  Rhymer's  prophetic  skill,  the  vulgar  had  no 
hesitation  to  ascribe  the  whole  to  the  intercourse  between  the 
bard  and  the  Queen  of  F^ery.  The  popular  tale  bears,  that 
Thomas  was  carried  ofT,  at  an  early  age,  to  the  Fairy  Land, 
where  he  acquired  all  the  knowledge,  which  made  him  after- 
wards so  famous.  After  seven  years'  residence,  he  was  permitted 
to  return  to  the  earth,  to  enlighten  and  astonish  his  country- 
men by  his  prophetic  powers;  still,  however,  remaining  bound 
to  return  to  his  royal  mistress,  when  she  should  intimate  her 
pleasure.  Accordingly,  while  Thomas  was  making  merry  with 
his  friends  in  the  Tower  of  Ercildoune,  a  person  came  running 
in,  and  told,  with  marks  of  fear  and  astonishment,  that  a  hart 
and  hind  had  left  the  neighbouring  forest,  and  were,  compos- 
edly and  slowly,  parading  the  street  of  the  village.  The  prophet 
instantly  arose,  left  his  habitation,  and  followed  the  wonderful 
animals  to  the  forest,  whence  he  was  never  seen  to  return. 
According  to  the  popular  belief,  he  still  'drees  his  weird'  in 
Fairy  Land,  and  is  one  day  expected  to  revisit  earth.  In  the 
meanwhile,  his  memory  is  held  in  the  most  profound  respect. 
The  Eildon  Tree,  from  beneath  the  shade  of  which  he  delivered 
his  prophecies,  now  no  longer  exists;  but  the  spot  is  marked  by  a 
large  stone,  called  Eildon  Tree  Stone.  A  neighbouring  rivulet 
takes  the  name  of  the  Bogle  Burn  (Goblin  Brook)  from  the 
Rhymer's  supernatural  visitants.  The  veneration  paid  to  his 
dwelling-place  even  attached  itself  in  some  degree  to  a  person, 
who,  within  the  memory  of  man,  chose  to  set  up  his  residence 
in  the  ruins  of  Learmont's  tower.  The  name  of  this  man  was 
Murray,  a  kind  of  herbalist;  who  by  dint  of  some  knowledge  in 
simples,  the  possession  of  a  musical  clock,  an  electrical  machine, 
and  a  stufTed  alligator,  added  to  a  supposed  communication  with 
Thomas  the  Rhymer,  lived  for  many  years  in  very  good  credit 
as  a  wizard. 

It  seemed  to  the  Editor  unpardonable  to  dismiss  a  person  so 
important  in  Border  tradition  as  the  Rhymer,  without  some  fur- 
ther notice  than  a  simple  commentary  upon  the  following  ballad. 

327 


NOTES 

It  is  given  from  a  copy,  obtained  from  a  lady  residing  not  far 
from  Ercildoune,  corrected  and  enlarged  by  one  in  Mrs.  Brown's 
MSS.  The  former  copy,  however,  as  might  be  expected,  is  far 
more  minute  as  to  local  description.  To  this  old  tale  the  Editor 
has  ventured  to  add  a  Second  Part,  consisting  of  a  kind  of  canto, 
from  the  printed  prophecies  vulgarly  ascribed  to  the  Rhymer: 
and  a  Third  Part,  entirely  modern,  founded  upon  the  tradition 
of  his  having  returned  with  the  hart  and  hind,  to  the  Land  of 
Faery. 

Note  36,  p.  124 

The  traditional  commentary  upon  this  ballad  informs  us,  that 
the  apple  was  the  produce  of  the  fatal  tree  of  knowledge,  and 
that  the  garden  was  the  terrestrial  paradise.  The  repugnance  of 
Thomas  to  be  debarred  the  use  of  falsehood,  when  he  might  find 
it  convenient,  has  a  comic  effect. 

Note  37,  p.  126 

The  uncertainty  which  long  prevailed  in  Scotland  concerning 
the  fate  of  James  IV  is  well  known. 

Note  38,  p,  127 
One  of  Thomas's  rhymes,  preserved  by  tradition,  runs  thus: 

The  bum  of  breid 
Shall  run  fou  reid. 

Bannock -burn  is  the  brook  here  meant.  The  Scots  give  the 
name  of  bannock  to  a  thick  round  cake  of  unleavened  bread. 

Note  39,  p.  129 

An  ancient  tower  near  Ercildoune,  belonging  to  a  family  of 
the  name  of  Home.  One  of  Thomas's  prophecies  is  said  to  have 
run  thus:  — 

Vengeance!  Vengeance!  when  and  where? 

On  the  house  of  Coldingknow,  now  and  evermair! 

The  spot  is  rendered  classical  by  its  having  given  name  to  the 
beautiful  melody  called  the  Broom  0'  the  Cowdenknows. 

328 


NOTES 

Note  40,  p.  133 

An  ancient  seat  upon  the  Tweed,  in  Selkirkshire.  In  a  popular 
edition  of  the  first  part  of  Thomas  the  Rhymer,  the  Fairy  Queen 
thus  addresses  him :  — 

Gin  ye  wad  meet  wi'  me  again, 
Gang  to  the  bonny  banks  of  Fairnalie. 

Note  41,  p.  139 

In  the  spring  of  1805,  a  young  gentleman  of  talents,  and  of  a 
most  amiable  disposition,  perished  by  losing  his  way  on  the 
mountain  Hellvellyn.  His  remains  were  not  discovered  till  three 
months  afterwards,  when  they  were  found  guarded  by  a  faith- 
ful terrier-bitch,  his  constant  attendant  during  frequent  solitary 
rambles  through  the  wilds  of  Cumberland  and  Westmoreland. 

Note  42,  p.  164 

In  the  reign  of  James  I,  Sir  William  Scott  of  Buccleuch,  chief 
of  the  clan  bearing  that  name,  exchanged,  with  Sir  Thomas 
IngHs  of  Manor,  the  estate  of  Murdiestone,  in  Lanarkshire,  for 
one-half  of  the  barony  of  Branksome,  or  Brankholm,^  lying  upon 
the  Teviot,  about  three  miles  above  Hawick.  He  was  probably 
induced  to  this  transaction  from  the  vicinity  of  Branksome  to  the 
extensive  domain  which  he  possessed  in  Ettrick  Forest  and  in 
Teviotdale.  In  the  former  district  he  held  by  occupancy  the 
estate  of  Buccleuch,'^  and  much  of  the  forest  land  on  the  river 
Ettrick.  In  Teviotdale,  he  enjoyed  the  barony  of  Eckford,  by  a 
grant  from  Robert  II  to  his  ancestor,  Walter  Scott  of  Kirkurd, 
for  the  apprehending  of  Gilbert  Ridderford,  confirmed  by  Rob- 

•  Branxholm  is  the  proper  name  of  the  barony;  but  Branksome  has  been 
adopted,  as  suitable  to  the  pronunciation,  and  more  proper  for  poetry. 

»  There  are  no  vestiges  of  any  building  at  Buccleuch,  except  the  site  of  a 
chapel,  where,  according  to  a  tradition  current  in  the  time  of  Scott  of  Satchells, 
many  of  the  ancient  barons  of  Buccleuch  lie  buried.  There  is  also  said  to  have  been 
a  mill  near  this  solitary  spot;  an  extraordinary  circumstance,  as  little  or  no  corn 
grows  within  several  miles  of  Buccleuch.  Satchells  says  it  was  used  to  grind  corn 
for  the  hounds  of  the  chieftain. 


NOTES 

ert  HI,  3d  May,  1424.  Tradition  imputes  the  exchange  betwixt 
Scott  and  Inglis  to  a  conversation,  in  which  the  latter,  a  man,  it 
would  appear,  of  a  mild  and  forbearing  nature,  complained  much 
of  the  injuries  which  he  was  exposed  to  from  the  English  Bor- 
derers, who  frequently  plundered  his  lands  of  Branksome.  Sir 
William  Scott  instantly  offered  him  the  estate  of  Murdiestone, 
in  exchange  for  that  which  was  subject  to  such  egregrious  incon- 
venience. When  the  bargain  was  completed,  he  drily  remarked, 
that  the  cattle  in  Cumberland  were  as  good  as  those  of  Teviot- 
dale;  and  proceeded  to  commence  a  system  of  reprisals  upon  the 
English,  which  was  regularly  pursued  by  his  successors.  In  the 
next  reign,  James  II  granted  to  Sir  Walter  Scott  of  Branksome, 
and  to  Sir  David,  his  son,  the  remaining  half  of  the  barony  of 
Branksome,  to  be  held  in  blanche  for  the  payment  of  a  red  rose. 
The  cause  assigned  for  the  grant  is,  their  brave  and  faithful  exer- 
tions in  favour  of  the  King  against  the  house  of  Douglas,  with 
whom  James  had  been  recently  tugging  for  the  throne  of  Scot- 
land. This  charter  is  dated  the  2d  February,  1443;  and,  in  the 
same  month,  part  of  the  barony  of  Langholm,  and  many  lands 
in  Lanarkshire,  were  conferred  upon  Sir  Walter  and  his  son  by 
the  same  monarch. 

After  the  period  of  the  exchange  with  Sir  Thomas  Inglis, 
Branksome  became  the  principal  seat  of  the  Buccleuch  family. 
The  castle  was  enlarged  and  strengthened  by  Sir  David  Scott, 
thegrandsonof  Sir  William,  its  first  possessor.  But,  in  1 570-1,  the 
vengeance  of  Elizabeth,  provoked  by  the  inroads  of  Buccleuch, 
and  his  attachment  to  the  cause  of  Queen  Mary,  destroyed 
the  castle,  and  laid  waste  the  lands  of  Branksome.  In  the  same 
year  the  castle  was  repaired  and  enlarged  by  Sir  Walter  Scott, 
its  brave  possessor;  but  the  work  was  not  completed  until  after 
his  death,  in  1574,  when  the  widow  finished  the  building.  This 
appears  from  the  following  inscriptions.  Around  a  stone,  bear- 
ing the  arms  of  Scott  of  Buccleuch,  appears  the  following  legend : 

"  &n  W.  S>ctstt  of  "iBtanrftEim  Itnpt  oe  of  &k  WiHium  ^cott  of  ftitfiart 
I!\ni9t  ttQAti  ?e  toorft  upon  pe  24  of  M&xc'be  t57t  ^iec  qut)a  Departit  at 
<Boti'jrf  plei^our  pe  n  2tpril  1574." 

330 


NOTES 

On  a  similar  copartment  are  sculptured  the  arms  of  Douglas, 
with  this  inscription,  'Dame  Margaret  Douglas  his  spous 

COMPLETIT  THE    FORSAID   WORK    IN  OCTOBER    1 576.'     Over  an 

arched  door  is  inscribed  the  following  moral  verse :  — 

Sin.  badD.  i^,  nachu  nature,  'bt^.  trouolbt.  pat.  jtfal.  Itfiu  a^. 
0l)iiztfQxt.  iscrtjE.  «5oti.  ftejp.  beil.   pe.  rob.  tftp.  fame.  ia!.  nor!)t. 

deftap. 
&k  falter  ;§)COt  of  '25ranj:?jolm  ftniobt.  Jiaaroaret  S^ouoTajS.  I57i. 

Branksome  Castle  continued  to  be  the  principal  seat  of  the 
Buccleuch  family,  while  security  was  any  object  in  their  choice 
of  a  mansion.  It  has  since  been  the  residence  of  the  Commis- 
sioners, or  Chamberlains,  of  the  family.  From  the  various  alter- 
ations which  the  building  has  undergone,  it  is  not  only  greatly 
restricted  in  its  dimensions,  but  retains  little  of  the  castellated 
form,  if  we  except  one  square  tower  of  massy  thickness,  the  only 
part  of  the  original  building  which  now  remains.  The  whole 
forms  a  handsome  modern  residence,  lately  inhabited  by  my 
deceased  friend,  Adam  Ogilvy,  Esq.,  of  Hartwoodmyres,  Com- 
missioner of  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch. 

The  extent  of  the  ancient  edifice  can  still  be  traced  by  some 
vestiges  of  its  foundation,  and  its  strength  is  obvious  from  the 
situation,  on  a  deep  bank  surrounded  by  the  Teviot  and  flanked 
by  a  deep  ravine,  formed  by  a  precipitous  brook.  It  was 
anciently  surrounded  by  wood,  as  appears  from  the  survey  of 
Roxburghshire,  made  for  Font's  Atlas,  and  preserved  in  the 
Advocates'  Library.  This  wood  was  cut  about  fifty  years  ago, 
but  is  now  replaced  by  the  thriving  plantations,  which  have 
been  formed  by  the  noble  proprietor,  for  miles  around  the 
ancient  mansion  of  his  forefathers. 

Note  43,  p.  164 

The  ancient  Barons  of  Buccleuch,  both  from  feudal  splen- 
dour, and  from  their  frontier  situation,  retained  in  their  house- 
hold, at  Branksome,  a  number  of  gentlemen  of  their  own  name, 

331 


NOTES 

who  held  lands  from  their  chief,  for  the  military  service  of  watch- 
ing and  warding  his  castle.  Satchells  tells  us,  in  his  doggrel 
poetry, 

No  baron  was  better  served  in  Britain; 

The  barons  of  Buclileugh  they  kept  their  call, 

Four  and  twenty  gentlemen  in  their  hall. 

All  being  of  his  name  and  kin; 

Each  two  had  a  servant  to  wait  upon  them; 

Before  supper  and  dinner,  most  renowned* 

The  bells  rung  and  the  trumpets  sowned; 

Ane  more  than  that,  I  do  confess, 

They  kept  four  and  twenty  pensioners. 

Think  not  I  lie,  nor  do  me  blame. 

For  the  pensioners  I  can  all  name: 

There's  men  alive,  elder  than  I, 

They  know  if  I  speak  truth,  or  lie. 

Every  pensioner  a  room  i  did  gain, 

For  service  done  and  to  be  done; 

This  let  th'e  reader  understand. 

The  name  both  of  the  men  and  land, 

Which  they  possessed,  it  is  of  truth, 

Both  from  the  Lairds  and  Lords  of  Buckleugh. 

Accordingly,  dismounting  from  his  Pegasus,  Satchells  gives 
us,  in  prose,  the  names  of  twenty-four  gentlemen,  younger 
brothers  of  ancient  families,  who  were  pensioners  to  the  house  of 
Buccleuch,  and  describes  the  lands  which  each  possessed  for  his 
Border  service.  In  time  of  war  with  England,  the  garrison  was 
doubtless  augmented.  Satchells  adds,  'These  twenty-three  pen- 
sioners, all  of  his  own  name  of  Scott,  and  Walter  Gladstanes  of 
Whitelaw,  a  near  cousin  of  my  lord's,  as  aforesaid,  were  ready 
on  all  occasions,  when  his  honour  pleased  cause  to  advertise 
them.  It  is  known  to  many  of  the  country  better  than  it  is  to 
me,  that  the  rent  of  these  lands,  which  the  Lairds  and  Lords  of 
Buccleuch  did  freely  bestow  upon  their  friends,  will  amount  to 
above  twelve  or  fourteen  thousand  merks  a  year.'  (History  of 
the  Name  of  Scott,  p.  45.)   An  immense  sum  in  those  times. 

Note  44,  p.  165 

'Of  a  truth,'  says  Froissart,  'the  Scottish  cannot  boast  great 
skill  with  the  bow,  but  rather  bear  axes,  with  which,  in  time  of 
•  Room,  portion  of  land. 


NOTES 

need,  they  give  heavy  strokes.'  The  Jedwood-axe  was  a  sort 
of  partisan,  used  by  horsemen,  as  appears  from  the  arms  of 
Jedburgh,  which  bear  a  cavalier  mounted,  and  armed  with  this 
weapon.   It  is  also  called  a  Jedwood  or  Jeddart  staff. 

Note  45,  p.  166 

Branksome  Castle  was  continually  exposed  to  the  attacks  of 
the  English,  both  from  its  situation  and  the  restless  military  dis- 
position of  its  inhabitants,  who  were  seldom  on  good  terms  with 
their  neighbours.  The  following  letter  from  the  Earl  of  North- 
umberland to  Henry  VIII  in  1 533 ,  gives  an  account  of  a  success- 
ful inroad  of  the  English,  in  which  the  country  was  plundered 
up  to  the  gates  of  the  castle,  although  the  invaders  failed  in  their 
principal  object,  which  was  to  kill,  or  make  prisoner,  the  Laird 
of  Buccleuch.   It  occurs  in  the  Cotton  MS.  Calig.  B.  viii,  f.  222. 

'Pleaseth  yt  your  most  gracious  highness  to  be  aduertised, 
that  my  comptroller,  with  Raynald  Carnaby,  desyred  licence  of 
me  to  invade  the  realme  of  Scotland,  for  the  annoysaunce  of 
your  highnes  enemys,  where  they  thought  best  exploit  by  theyme 
might  be  done,  and  to  haue  to  concur  withe  theyme  the  inhabi- 
tants of  Northumberland,  suche  as  was  towards  me  according 
to  theyre  assembly,  and  as  by  theyre  discretions  vpone  the  same 
they  shulde  thinke  most  convenient;  and  soo  they  dyde  meet 
vppon  Monday,  before  night,  being  the  iii  day  of  this  instant 
monethe,  at  Wawhope,  upon  Northe  Tyne  water,  above  Tyn- 
daill,  where  they  were  to  the  number  of  xv  c  men,  and  soo  invadet 
Scotland  at  the  hour  of  viii  of  the  clok  at  nyght,  at  a  place  called 
VVhele  Causay ;  and  before  xi  of  the  clok  dyd  send  forth  a  forrey 
of  Tyndaill  and  Ryddisdail,  and  laide  all  the  resydewe  in  a  bush- 
ment,  and  actyvely  did  set  vpon  a  towne  called  Branxholm, 
where  the  Lord  of  Buclough  dwellythe,  and  purpesed  theyme- 
selves  with  a  trayne  for  hym  lyke  to  his  accustomed  manner,  in 
rysynge  to  all  frayes;  albeit,  that  knyght  he  was  not  at  home, 
and  so  they  brynt  the  said  Branxholm,  and  other  townes,  as 
to  say  Whichestre,  Whichestre-helme,  and  Whelley,  and  haid 

333 


NOTES 

ordered  theymeself,  soo  that  sundry  of  the  said  Lord  Buclough's 
servants,  whodyd  issue  fourthe  of  his  gates,  was  takyn  prisoners. 
They  dyd  not  leve  one  house,  one  stak  of  corne,  nor  one  shyef, 
without  the  gate  of  the  said  Lord  Buclough  vnbrynt;  and  thus 
scrymaged  and  frayed,  supposing  the  Lord  of  Buclough  to  be 
within  iii  or  iiii  myles  to  have  trayned  himtothebushment;  and 
soo  in  the  breyking  of  the  day  dyd  the  forrey  and  the  bushment 
mete,  and  reculed  homeward,  making  theyr  way  westward  from 
theyre  invasion  to  be  over  Lyddersdaill,  as  intending  yf  the  fray 
frome  theyre  furst  entry  by  the  Scotts  waiches,  or  otherwyse  by 
warnying,  shulde  haue  bene  gyven  to  Gedworth  and  the  countrey 
of  Scotland  theyreabouts  of  theyre  invasion :  whiche  Gedworth  is 
from  the  Wheles  Causay  vi  myles,  that  thereby  the  Scotts  shulde 
have  comen  further  vnto  they  me,  and  more  out  of  ordre;  and  soo 
upon  sundry  good  considerations,  before  they  entered  Lydders- 
daill, as  well  accompting  the  inhabitants  of  the  same  to  be 
towards  your  highness,  and  to  enforce  theyme  the  more  thereby, 
as  alsoo  to  put  an  occasion  of  suspect  to  the  Kinge  of  Scotts,  and 
his  counsaill,  to  be  taken  anenst  theyme,  amonges  theymeselves, 
made  proclamacions,  commanding,  vpon  payne  of  dethe,  assur- 
ance to  be  for  the  said  inhabitants  of  Lyddersdaill,  without  any 
prejudice  or  hurt  to  be  done  by  any  Inglysman  vnto  theyme,  and 
soo  in  good  ordre  abowte  the  howre  of  ten  of  the  clok  before  none, 
vppone  Tewisday,  dyd  pass  through  the  said  Lyddersdail,  when 
dyd  come  diverse  of  the  said  inhabitants  there  to  my  servauntes, 
under  the  said  assurance,  offerring  theymselfs  with  any  service 
they  couthe  make;  and  thus,  thanks  be  to  Godde,  your  highnes' 
subjects,  abowte  the  howre  of  xii  of  the  clok  at  none  the  same 
daye,  came  into  this  your  highnes  realme,  bringing  wt  theyme 
above  xl  Scottsmen  prisoners,  one  of  theyme  named  Scot,  of  the 
surname  and  kyn  of  the  said  Lord  of  Buclough,  and  of  his  howse- 
hold ;  they  brought  also  ccc  nowte,  and  above  Ix  horse  and  mares, 
keping  in  savetie  frome  losse  or  hurte  all  your  said  highnes  sub- 
jects. There  were  alsoo  a  towne,  called  Newbyggins,  by  diverse 
fotmen  of  Tyndaill  and  Ryddesdaill,  takyn  vp  of  the  night,  and 
spoyled,  when  was  slayne  ii  Scottsmen  of  the  said  towne,  and 

334 


NOTES 

many  Scotts  there  hurte;  your  highnes  subjects  was  xiii  myles 
within  the  groundeof  Scotlande,  and  is  from  my  house  at  Werk- 
worthe,  above  Ix  miles  of  the  most  evil  passage,  where  great 
snawes  doth  lye;  heretofore  the  same  townes  now  brynt  haith 
not  at  any  tyme  in  the  mynd  of  man  in  any  warrs  been  enter- 
prised  unto  nowe;  your  subjects  were  thereto  more  encouraged 
for  the  better  advancement  of  your  highnes  service,  the  said 
Lord  of  Buclough  beyng  always  a  mortall  enemy  to  this  your 
Graces  realme,  and  he  dyd  say,  within  xiii  days  before,  he 
woulde  see  who  durst  lye  near  hym;  wt  many  other  cruell  words, 
the  knowledge  whereof  was  certainly  haid  to  my  said  serv- 
aunts,  before  they  reenterprice  maid  vpon  him;  most  humbly 
beseeching  your  majesty,  that  youre  highnes  thanks  may  concur 
vnto  theyme,  whose  names  be  here  inclosed,  and  to  have  in  your 
most  gracious  memory,  the  paynfull  and  diligent  service  of  my 
pore  servaunte  Wharton,  and  thus,  as  I  am  most  bounden,  shall 
dispose  wt  them  that  be  under  me  f.  .  .  .  annoysaunce  of  your 
highnes  enemys.'  In  resentment  of  this  foray,  Buccleuch,  with 
other  Border  chiefs,  assembled  an  army  of  3000  riders,  with 
which  they  penetrated  into  Northumberland,  and  laid  waste  the 
country  as  far  as  the  banks  of  Bramish.  They  bafifled,  or  defeated, 
the  English  forces  opposed  to  them,  and  returned  loaded  with 
prey,  (Pinkerton's  History,  vol.  11,  p.  318.) 

Note  46,  p.  166 

Sir  Walter  Scott  of  Buccleuch  succeeded  to  his  grandfather, 
Sir  David,  in  1492.  He  was  a  brave  and  powerful  baron,  and 
Warden  of  the  West  Marches  of  Scotland.  His  death  was  the 
consequence  of  a  feud  betwixt  the  Scotts  and  Kerrs,  the  history 
of  which  is  necessary,  to  explain  repeated  allusions  in  the  ro- 
mance. 

In  the  year  1526,  in  the  words  of  Pitscottie,  'the  Earl  of 
Angus,  and  the  rest  of  the  Douglasses,  ruled  all  which  they  liked, 
and  no  man  durst  say  the  contrary;  wherefore  the  King 
(James  V,  then  a  minor)  was  heavily  displeased,  and  would  fain 

335 


NOTES 

have  been  out  of  their  hands,  if  he  might  by  any  way:  And,  to 
that  effect,  wrote  a  quiet  and  secret  letter  with  his  own  hand,  and 
sent  it  to  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch,  beseeching  him  that  he  would 
come  with  his  kin  and  friends,  and  all  the  force  that  he  might  be, 
and  meet  him  at  Melross,  at  his  home-passing,  and  there  to  take 
him  out  of  the  Douglasses  hands,  and  to  put  him  to  liberty,  to 
use  himself  among  the  lave  (rest)  of  his  lords,  as  he  thinks  expe- 
dient. 

'This  letter  was  quietly  directed,  and  sent  by  one  of  the  King's 
own  secret  servants,  which  was  received  very  thankfully  by  the 
Laird  of  Buccleuch,  who  was  very  glad  thereof,  to  be  put  to  such 
charges  and  familiarity  with  his  prince,  and  did  great  diligence 
to  perform  the  King's  writing,  and  to  bring  the  matter  to  pass  as 
the  King  desired:  And,  to  that  effect,  convened  all  his  kin  and 
friends,  and  all  that  would  do  for  him,  to  ride  wath  him  to  Mel- 
ross, when  he  knew  of  the  King's  homecoming.  And  so  he  brought 
with  him  six  hundred  spears,  of  Liddesdale,  and  Annandale,  and 
countrymen,  and  clans  thereabout,  and  held  themselves  quiet 
while  that  the  King  returned  out  of  Jedburgh,  and  came  to 
Melross,  to  remain  there  all  that  night. 

'But  when  the  Lord  Hume,  Cessfoord,  and  Fernyherst,  (the 
chiefs  of  the  clan  of  Kerr),  took  their  leave  of  the  King,  and 
returned  home,  then  appeared  the  Lord  of  Buccleuch  in  sight, 
and  his  company  with  him,  in  an  arrayed  battle,  intending  to 
have  fulfilled  the  King's  petition,  and  therefore  came  stoutly 
forward  on  the  back  side  of  Haliden  hill.  By  that  the  Earl  of 
Angus,  with  George  Douglas,  his  brother,  and  sundry  other  of 
his  friends,  seeing  this  army  coming,  they  marvelled  what  the 
matter  meant;  while  at  the  last  they  knew  the  Laird  of  Buc- 
cleuch, with  a  certain  company  of  the  thieves  of  Annandale. 
With  him  they  were  less  affeared,  and  made  them  manfully  to 
the  field  contrary  them,  and  said  to  the  King  in  this  manner, 
"  Sir,  yon  is  Buccleuch,  and  thieves  of  Annandale  with  him,  to 
unbeset  your  Grace  from  the  gate"  (i.  e.  interrupt  your  pas- 
sage.) "  I  vow  to  God  they  shall  either  fight  or  f^ee;  and  ye  shall 
tarry  here  on  this  know,  and  my  brother  George  with  you,  with 

336 


NOTES 

any  other  company  you  please;  and  I  shall  pass,  and  put  yon 
thieves  off  the  ground,  and  rid  the  gate  unto  your  Grace,  or 
else  die  for  it."  The  King  tarried  still,  as  was  devised;  and 
George  Douglas  with  him,  and  sundry  other  lords,  such  as  the 
Earl  of  Lennox,  and  the  Lord  Erskine,  and  some  of  the  King's 
own  servants;  but  all  the  lave  (rest)  past  with  the  Earl  of  Angus 
to  the  field  against  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch,  who  joyned  and 
countered  cruelly  both  the  said  parties  in  the  field  of  Darne- 
linver,^  either  against  other,  with  uncertain  victory.  But  at  the 
last,  the  Lord  Hume,  hearing  word  of  that  matter  how  it 
stood,  returned  again  to  the  King  in  all  possible  haste,  with  him 
the  Lairds  of  Cessfoord  and  Fernyhirst,  to  the  number  of  four- 
score spears,  and  set  freshly  on  the  lap  and  wing  of  the  Laird 
of  Buccleuch's  field,  and  shortly  bare  them  backward  to  the 
ground;  which  caused  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch,  and  the  rest  of 
his  friends,  to  go  back  and  flee,  whom  they  followed  and  chased ; 
and  especially  the  Lairds  of  Cessfoord  and  Fernyhirst  followed 
furiouslie,  till  at  the  foot  of  a  path  the  Laird  of  Cessfoord  was 
slain  by  the  stroke  of  a  spear  by  an  Elliot,  who  was  then  servant 
to  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch.  But  when  the  Laird  of  Cessfoord  was 
slain,  the  chase  ceased.  The  Earl  of  Angus  returned  again  with 
great  merriness  and  victory,  and  thanked  God  that  he  saved 
him  from  that  chance,  and  passed  with  the  King  to  Melross, 
where  they  remained  all  that  night.  On  the  morn  they  past  to 
Edinburgh  with  the  King,  who  was  very  sad  and  dolorous  of  the 
slaughter  of  the  Laird  of  Cessfoord,  and  many  other  gentlemen 
and  yeomen  slain  by  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch,  containing  the 
number  of  fourscore  and  fifteen,  which  died  in  defence  of  the 
King,  and  at  the  command  of  his  writing.' 

I  am  not  the  first  who  has  attempted  to  celebrate  in  verse  the 
renown  of  this  ancient  baron,  and  his  hazardous  attempt  to  pro- 
cure his  sovereign's  freedom.  In  a  Scottish  Latin  poet  we  find 
the  following  verses:  — 

>  Darnwick,  near  Melrose.  The  place  of  conflict  is  still  called  Skinner's  Field, 
from  a  corruption  of  Skirmish  Field. 


46  337 


NOTES 

Valterius  Scotus  Balcluchius, 
Cgregto  suscepto  facinore,  libertate  Regis,  ac  aliis  rebus  gestis  clams,  sub  Jacobo 

V.  A°.  Christi,  1526. 
Intentata  aliis,  nuUique  audita  priorum 

Audet,  nee  pavidum  morsve,  metusve  quatit, 
Libertatem  aliis  solid  transcribere  Regis: 

Subreptam  hanc  Regi  restituisse  paras; 
Si  vincis,  quanta  6  succedunt  prajmia  dextrael 

Sin  victus,  falsas  spes  jace,  pone  animam. 
Hostica  vis  nocuit:  stant  alta  robora  mentis 

Atque  decus.  Vincet,  Rege  probante,  fides. 
Insita  quels  animis  virtus,  quosque  acrior  ardor 

Obsidet,  obscuris  nox  premat  an  tenebris? 

Heroea  ex  omni  Historia  Scotica  lectissimi,  Auctore  Johan.  Jonstonlo  Abredo- 
nense  Scoco,  1603. 

In  consequence  of  the  battle  of  Melrose,  there  ensued  a  deadly 
feud  betwixt  the  names  of  Scott  and  Kerr,  which,  in  spite  of  all 
means  used  to  bring  about  an  agreement,  raged  for  many  years 
upon  the  Borders.  Buccleuch  was  imprisoned,  and  his  estates 
forfeited,  in  the  year  1535,  for  levying  war  against  the  Kerrs,  and 
restored  by  act  of  Parliament,  dated  15th  March,  1542,  during 
the  regency  of  Mary  of  Lorraine.  But  the  most  signal  act  of 
violence,  to  which  this  quarrel  gave  rise,  was  the  murder  of  Sir 
Walter  himself,  who  was  slain  by  the  Jerrs  in  the  streets  of  Edin- 
burgh in  1552.  This  is  the  event  alluded  to  in  stanza  vil;  and 
the  poem  is  supposed  to  open  shortly  after  it  had  taken  place. 

The  feud  between  these  two  families  was  not  reconciled  in 
1596,  when  both  chieftains  paraded  the  streets  of  Edinburgh 
with  their  followers,  and  it  was  expected  their  first  meeting 
would  decide  their  quarrel.  But,  on  July  14th  of  the  same  year, 
Colvil,  in  a  letter  to  Mr.  Bacon,  informs  him,  'that  there  was 
great  trouble  upon  the  Borders,  which  would  continue  till  order 
should  be  taken  by  the  Queen  of  England  and  the  King,  by 
reason  of  the  two  young  Scots  chieftains,  Cesford  and  Baclugh, 
and  of  the  present  necessity  and  scarcity  of  corn  amongst  the 
Scots  Borderers  and  riders.  That  there  had  been  a  private  quarrel 
betwixt  those  two  lairds  on  the  Borders,  which  was  like  to  have 
turned  to  blood;  but  the  fear  of  the  general  trouble  had  recon- 
ciled them,  and  the  injuries  which  they  thought  to  have  com- 
mitted against  each  other,  were  now  transferred  upon  England: 

338 


NOTES 

not  unlike  that  emulation  in  France  between  the  Baron  de  Biron 
and  Mons.  Jeverie,  who,  being  both  ambitious  of  honour,  under- 
took more  hazardous  enterprises  against  the  enemy,  than  they 
would  have  done  if  they  had  been  at  concord    together.' 
(Birch's  Memorials,  vol.  ii,  p.  67.) 

Note  47,  p.  167 

Among  other  expedients  resorted  to  for  staunching  the  feud 
betwixt  the  Scotts  and  the  Kerrs,  there  was  a  bond  executed  in 
1529,  between  the  heads  of  each  clan,  binding  themselves  to  per- 
form reciprocally  the  four  principal  pilgrimages  of  Scotland,  for 
the  benefit  of  the  souls  of  those  of  the  opposite  name  who  had 
fallen  in  the  quarrel.  This  indenture  is  printed  in  the  Minstrelsy 
of  the  Scottish  Border,  vol.  I.  But  either  it  never  took  effect,  or 
else  the  feud  was  renewed  shortly  afterwards. 

Such  pactions  were  not  uncommon  in  feudal  times;  and,  as 
might  be  expected,  they  were  often,  as  in  the  present  case,  void 
of  the  effect  desired.  When  Sir  Walter  Mauny,  the  renowned 
follower  of  Edward  III,  had  taken  the  town  of  Ryol  in  Gascony, 
he  remembered  to  have  heard  that  his  father  lay  there  buried, 
and  offered  a  hundred  crowns  to  any  who  could  show  him  his 
grave.  A  very  old  man  appeared  before  Sir  Walter,  and  in- 
formed him  of  the  manner  of  his  father's  death,  and  the  place 
of  his  sepulture.  It  seems  the  Lord  of  Mauny  had,  at  a  great 
tournament,  unhorsed,  and  wounded  to  the  death,  a  Gascon 
knight,  of  the  house  of  Mirepoix,  whose  kinsman  was  Bishop 
of  Cambray.  For  his  deed  he  was  held  at  feud  by  the  relations 
of  the  knight,  until  he  agreed  to  undertake  a  pilgrimage  to  the 
shrine  of  St.  James  of  Compostella,  for  the  benefit  of  the  soul  of 
the  deceased.  But  as  he  returned  through  the  town  of  Ryol, 
after  accomplishment  of  his  vow,  he  was  beset  and  treacherously 
slain,  by  the  kindred  of  the  knight  whom  he  had  killed.  Sir 
Walter,  guided  by  the  old  man,  visited  the  lowly  tomb  of  his 
father;  and,  having  read  the  inscription,  which  was  in  Latin, 
he  caused  the  body  to  be  raised,  and  transported  to  his  native 

339 


NOTES 

city  of  Valenciennes,  where  masses  were,  in  the  days  of  Froissart, 
duly  said  for  the  soul  of  the  unfortunate  pilgrim.  (Froissart's 
Chronycle,  vol.  I,  p.  123.) 

Note  48,  p.  168 

The  family  of  Ker,  Kerr,  or  Carr,^  was  very  powerful  on  the 
Border.  Fynes  Morrison  remarks,  in  his  Travels,  that  their  in- 
fluence extended  from  the  village  of  Preston-Grange  in  Lothian, 
to  the  limits  of  England.  Cessford  Castle,  the  ancient  baronial 
residence  of  the  family,  is  situated  near  the  village  of  More- 
battle,  within  two  or  three  miles  of  the  Cheviot  Hills.  It  has 
been  a  place  of  great  strength  and  consequence,  but  is  now  ruin- 
ous. Tradition  affirms,  that  it  was  founded  by  Halbert,  or 
Habby  Kerr,  a  gigantic  warrior,  concerning  whom  many  stories 
are  current  in  Roxburghshire.  The  Duke  of  Roxburghe  repre- 
sents Kerr  of  Cessford.  A  distinct  and  powerful  branch  of  the 
same  name  own  the  Marquis  of  Lothian  as  their  chief.  Hence 
the  distinction  betwixt  Kerrs  of  Cessford  and  Fairnihirst. 

Note  49,  p.  169 

The  Cranstoims,  Lord  Cranstoun,  are  an  ancient  Border  fam- 
ily, whose  chief  seat  was  at  Crailing,  in  Teviotdale.  They  were 
at  this  time  at  feud  with  the  clan  of  Scott ;  for  it  appears  that  the 
Lady  of  Buccleuch,  in  1557,  beset  the  Laird  of  Cranstoun,  seek- 
ing his  life.  Nevertheless,  the  same  Cranstoun,  or  perhaps  his 
son,  was  married  to  a  daughter  of  the  same  lady. 

Note  50,  p.  169 

The  Bethunes  were  of  French  origin,  and  derived  their  name 
from  a  small  town  in  Artois.  There  were  several  distinguished 
families  of  the  Bethunes  in  the  neighbouring  province  of  Pic- 
ardy;  they  numbered  among  their  descendants  the  celebrated 

'  The  name  is  spelt  differently  by  the  various  families  who  bear  it.  Carr  U 
selected,  not  as  the  most  correct,  but  as  the  most  poetical  reading. 


NOTES 

Due  de  Sully ;  and  the  name  was  accounted  among  the  most  noble 
in  France,  while  aught  noble  remained  in  that  country.^  The  fam- 
ily of  Bethune,  or  Beatoun,  in  Fife,  produced  three  learned  and 
dignified  prelates;  namely,  Cardinal  Beaton,  and  two  successive 
Archbishops  of  Glasgow,  all  of  whom  flourished  about  the  date 
of  the  romance.  Of  this  family  was  descended  Dame  Janet 
Beaton,  Lady  Buccleugh,  widow  of  Sir  Walter  Scott  of  Brank- 
some.  She  was  a  woman  of  masculine  spirit,  as  appeared  from 
her  riding  at  the  head  of  her  son's  clan,  after  her  husband's 
murder.  She  also  possessed  the  hereditary  abilities  of  her  fam- 
ily in  such  a  degree,  that  the  superstition  of  the  vulgar  imputed 
them  to  supernatural  knowledge.  With  this  was  mingled,  by 
faction,  the  foul  accusation,  of  her  having  influenced  Queen 
Mary  to  the  murder  of  her  husband.  One  of  the  placards,  pre- 
served in  Buchanan's  Detection,  accuses  of  Darnley's  murder 
'the  Erie  of  Bothwell,  Mr.  James  Balfour,  the  persoun  of  Fliske, 
Mr.  David  Chalmers,  black  Mr.  John  Spens,  who  was  principal 
deviser  of  the  murder;  and  the  Quene,  assenting  thairto,  throw 
the  persuasion  of  the  Erie  Bothwell,  and  the  witchcraft  oj 
Lady  Buckleuch.' 

Note  51,  p.  169 

Padua  was  long  supposed,  by  the  Scottish  peasants,  to  be  the 
principal  school  of  necromancy.  The  Earl  of  Gowrie,  slain  at 
Perth,  in  1600,  pretended,  during  his  studies  in  Italy,  to  have 
acquired  some  knowledge  of  the  cabala,  by  which,  he  said,  he 
could  charm  snakes,  and  work  other  miracles;  and,  in  particular, 
could  produce  children  without  the  intercourse  of  the  sexes.  — ■ 
See  the  Examination  of  Wemyss  of  Bogie  before  the  Privy 
Council,  concerning  Cowrie's  Conspiracy. 

Note  52,  p.  169 

The  shadow  of  a  necromancer  is  independent  of  the  sun, 
Goycas  informs  us,  that  Simon  Magus  caused  his  shadow  to  go 

'  This  expression  and  sentiment  were  dictated  by  the  situation  of  France,  in  the 
year  1803,  when  the  poem  was  originally  written.  [1821.) 


NOTES 

before  him,  making  people  believe  it  was  an  attendant  spirit. 
(Heywood's  Hierarchie,  p.  475.)  The  vulgar  conceive,  that  when 
a  class  of  students  have  made  a  certain  progress  in  their  mystic 
studies,  they  are  obliged  to  run  through  a  subterraneous  hall 
where  the  devil  literally  catches  the  hindmost  in  the  race,  unless 
he  crosses  the  hall  so  speedily,  that  the  arch-enemy  can  only 
apprehend  his  shadow.  In  the  latter  case,  the  person  of  the  sage 
never  after  throws  any  shade;  and  those  who  have  thus  lost  their 
shadow  always  prove  the  best  magicians. 

Note  53,  p.  169 

The  Scottish  vulgar,  without  having  any  very  defined  notion 
of  their  attributes,  believe  in  the  existence  of  an  intermediate 
class  of  spirits,  residing  in  the  air,  or  in  the  waters;  to  whose 
agency  they  ascribe  floods,  storms,  and  all  such  phenomena  as 
their  own  philosophy  cannot  readily  explain.  They  are  sup- 
posed to  interfere  in  the  affairs  of  mortals,  sometimes  with  a 
malevolent  purpose,  and  sometimes  with  milder  views.  It  is 
said,  for  example,  that  a  gallant  baron,  having  returned  from 
the  Holy  Land  to  his  castle  of  Drummelziar,  found  his  fair  lady 
nursing  a  healthy  child,  whose  birth  did  not  by  any  means  corre- 
spond to  the  date  of  his  departure.  Such  an  occurrence,  to  the 
credit  of  the  dames  of  the  Crusaders  be  it  spoken,  was  so  rare, 
that  it  required  a  miraculous  solution.  The  lady,  therefore,  was 
believed,  when  she  averred  confidently,  that  the  Spirit  of  the 
Tweed  had  issued  from  the  river  while  she  was  walking  upon  its 
bank,  and  compelled  her  to  submit  to  his  embraces:  and  the 
name  of  Tweedie  was  bestowed  upon  the  child,  who  afterwards 
became  Baron  of  Drummelziar,  and  chief  of  a  powerful  clan. 
To  those  spirits  were  also  ascribed,  in  Scotland,  the 

Airy  tongues,  that  syllable  men's  names. 

On  sands,  and  shores,  and  desert  wildernesses. 

When  the  workmen  were  engaged  in  erecting  the  ancient 
church  of  Old  Deer,  in  Aberdeenshire,  upon  a  small  hill  called 
Bissau,  they  were  surprised  to  find  that  the  work  was  impeded 

342 


NOTES 

by  supernatural  obstacles.  At  length,  the  Spirit  of  the  River  was 
heard  to  say, 

It  is  not  here,  it  is  not  here, 

That  ye  shall  build  the  church  of  Deer; 

But  on  Taptillery, 

Where  many  a  corpse  shall  lie. 

The  site  of  the  edifice  was  accordingly  transferred  to  Taptillery, 
an  eminence  at  some  distance  from  the  place  where  the  building 
had  been  commenced.  (Macfarlane'sMSS.)  I  mention  these 
popular  fables,  because  the  introduction  of  the  River  and  Moun- 
tain Spirits  may  not,  at  first  sight,  seem  to  accord  with  the  gen- 
eral tone  of  the  romance,  and  the  superstitions  of  the  country 
where  the  scene  is  laid. 

Note  54,  p.  173 

This  was  the  usual  appellation  of  the  marauders  upon  the 
Borders;  a  profession  diligently  pursued  by  the  inhabitants  on 
both  sides,  and  by  none  more  actively  and  successfully  than  by 
Buccleuch's  clan.  Long  after  the  union  of  the  crowns,  the  moss- 
troopers, although  sunk  in  reputation,  and  no  longer  enjoying 
the  pretext  of  national  hostility,  continued  to  pursue  their  calling. 

Fuller  includes,  among  the  wonders  of  Cumberland,  'The 
moss-troopers:  so  strange  in  the  condition  of  their  living,  if  con- 
sidered in  their  Original,  Increase,  Height,  Decay,  and  Ruine. 

^Original.  I  conceive  them  the  same  called  Borderers  in  Mr. 
Camden ;  and  characterised  by  him  to  be  a  wild  and  warlike  people. 
They  are  called  moss-troopers,  because  dwelling  in  the  mosses, 
and  riding  in  troops  together.  They  dwell  in  the  bounds,  or 
meeting,  of  the  two  kingdoms,  but  obey  the  laws  of  neither. 
They  come  to  church  as  seldom  as  the  29th  of  February  comes 
into  the  kalendar. 

'2.  Increase.  When  England  and  Scotland  were  united  in 
Great  Britain,  they  that  formerly  lived  by  hostile  incursions, 
betook  themselves  to  the  robbing  of  their  neighbours.  Their 
sons  are  free  of  the  trade  by  their  fathers'  copy.  They  are  like 
to  Job,  not  in  piety  and  patience,  but  in  sudden  plenty  and  pov- 
erty, sometimes  having  flocks  and  herds  in  the  morning,  none 

343 


NOTES 

at  night,  and  perchance  many  again  next  day.  They  may  give 
for  their  motto,  vivitur  ex  rapto,  stealing  from  their  honest  neigh- 
bours what  they  sometimes  require.  They  are  a  nest  of  hornets; 
strike  one,  and  stir  all  of  them  about  your  ears.  Indeed,  if  they 
promise  safely  to  conduct  a  traveller,  they  will  perform  it  with 
the  fidelity  of  a  Turkish  janizary;  otherwise,  woe  be  to  him  that 
falleth  into  their  quarters! 

'3.  Height.  Amounting,  forty  years  since,  to  some  thousands. 
These  compelled  the  vicinage  to  purchase  their  security,  by  pay- 
ing a  constant  rent  to  them.  When  in  their  greatest  height,  they 
had  two  great  enemies,  —  the  Laws  of  the  Land,  and  the  Lord 
William  Howard  of  Naworth.  He  sent  many  of  them  to  Carlisle, 
to  that  place  where  the  officer  doth  always  his  work  by  daylight. 
Yet  these  moss-troopers,  if  possibly  they  could  procure  the  par- 
don for  a  condemned  person  of  their  company,  would  advance 
great  sums  out  of  their  common  stock,  who,  in  such  a  case,  cast 
in  their  lots  amongst  themselves,  and  all  have  one  purse. 

'4.  Decay.  Caused  by  the  wisdom,  valour,  and  diligence  of 
the  Right  Honourable  Charles  Lord  Howard,  Earl  of  Carlisle, 
who  routed  these  English  Tories  with  his  regiment.  His  severity 
unto  them  will  not  only  be  excused,  but  commended,  by  the 
judicious,  who  consider  how  our  great  lawyer  doth  describe  such 
persons,  who  are  solemnly  outlawed.  (Bracton,  lib.  vili,  trac.  2, 
cap.  II :  "Ex  tunc  gerunt  caput  lupiniim,  ita  quod  sine  jtidiciali 
inquisitione  rite  pereant,  et  secum  suum  judicium  portent;  etmerito 
sine  lege  pereunt,  qui  secundum  legem  vivere  recusdrunt."  — 
"  Thenceforw^ard  (after  that  they  are  outlawed)  they  wear  a  wolf's 
head, so  that  they  lawfully  may  be  destroyed,  without  any  judicial 
inquisition,  as  who  carry  their  own  condemnation  about  them, 
and  deservedly  die  without  law,  because  they  refused  to  live 
according  to  law." 

'5.  Riiine.  Such  was  the  success  of  this  worthy  lord's  sever- 
ity, that  he  made  a  thorough  reformation  among  them;  and  the 
ringleaders  being  destroyed,  the  rest  are  reduced  to  legal  obe- 
dience, and  so,  I  trust,  will  continue.'  (Fuller's  Worthies  of 
England,  p.  216.) 

344 


NOTES 

The  last  public  mention  of  moss-troopers  occurs  during  the 
civil  wars  of  the  17th  century,  when  many  ordinances  of  Parlia- 
ment were  directed  against  them. 

Note  55,  p.  173 

The  arms  of  the  Kerrs  of  Cessford  were  Vert  on  a  chevron, 
betwixt  three  unicorns'  heads  erased  argent,  three  mullets  sable; 
crest,  a  unicorn's  head  erased  proper.  The  Scotts  of  Buccleuch 
bore.  Or,  on  a  bend  azure;  a  star  of  six  points  betwixt  two  cres- 
cents of  the  first. 

Note  56,  p.  173 

The  lands  of  Deloraine  are  joined  to  those  of  Buccleuch  in 
Ettrick  Forest.  They  were  immemorially  possessed  by  the  Buc- 
cleuch family,  under  the  strong  title  of  occupancy,  although  no 
charter  was  obtained  from  the  crown  until  1545.  Like  other  pos- 
sessions, the  lands  of  Deloraine  were  occasionally  granted  by 
them  to  vassals,  or  kinsmen,  for  Border  service.  Satchells  men- 
tions, among  the  twenty-four  gentlemen-pensioners  of  the  fam- 
ily, '  William  Scott,  commonly  called  Cut-at-ihe- Black,  who  had 
the  lands  of  Nether  Deloraine,  for  his  service.'  And  again, 
*  This  William  of  Deloraine,  commonly  called  Cut-at-the-Black, 
was  a  brother  of  the  ancient  house  of  Haining,  which  house  of 
Haining  is  descended  from  the  ancient  house  of  Hassendean.' 
The  lands  of  Deloraine  now  give  an  earl's  title  to  the  descendant 
of  Henry,  the  second  surviving  son  of  the  Duchess  of  Buccleuch 
and  Monmouth.  I  have  endeavoured  to  give  William  of  Delo- 
raine the  attributes  which  characterised  the  Borderers  of  his  day ; 
for  which  I  can  only  plead  Froissart's  apology,  that,  *  it  behov- 
eth,  in  a  lynage,  some  to  be  folyshe  and  outrageous,  to  mayn- 
teyne  and  sustayne  the  peasable.'  As  a  contrast  to  my  March- 
man,  I  beg  leave  to  transcribe,  from  the  same  author,  the  speech 
of  Amergot  Marcell,  a  captain  of  the  Adventurous  Companions, 
a  robber,  and  a  pillager  of  the  country  of  Auvergne,  who  had  been 
bribed  to  sell  his  strongholds,  and  to  assume  a  more  honourable 

345 


NOTES 

military  life  under  the  banners  of  the  Earl  of  Armagnac.  But 
'when  he  remembered  alle  this,  he  was  sorrowful;  his  tresour 
he  thought  he  wolde  not  mynysshe ;  he  was  wonte  dayly  to  serche 
for  newe  pyllages,  wherbye  encresed  his  profyte,  and  then 
he  sawe  that  alle  was  closed  fro'  hym.  Then  he  sayde  and 
imagyned,  that  to  pyll  and  to  robbe  (all  thynge  considered)  was 
a  good  lyfe,  and  so  repented  hym  of  his  good  doing.  On  a  tyme, 
he  said  to  his  old  companyons,  "Sirs,  there  is  no  sporte  nor  glory 
in  this  worlde  amonge  men  of  warre,  but  to  use  suche  lyfe  as  we 
hav'e  done  in  tyme  past.  What  a  joy  was  it  to  us  when  we  rode 
forth  at  adventure,  and  somtyme  found  by  the  way  a  riche 
priour  or  merchaunt,  or  a  route  of  mulettes  of  Mountpellyer, 
of  Narbonne,  of  Lymens,  of  Fongans,  of  Besyers,  of  Tholous,  or 
of  Carcasonne,  laden  with  cloth  of  Brussels,  or  peltre  ware  com- 
ynge  fro  the  fayres,  or  laden  with  spycery  fro  Bruges,  fro  Damas, 
or  fro  Alysaundre;  whatsoever  we  met,  all  was  ours,  or  els  ran- 
soumed  at  our  pleasures;  dayly  we  gate  new  money,  and  the 
vyllaynes  of  Auvergne  and  of  Lymosyn  dayly  provyded  and 
brought  to  our  castell  whete  mele,  good  wynes,  beffes,  and  fatte 
mottons,  pullayne,  and  wylde  foule:  We  were  ever  furnyshed  as 
tho  we  had  been  kings.  When  we  rode  forthe,  all  the  countrey 
trymbled  for  feare:  al  was  ours  goyng  and  corny nge.  How  tok 
we  Carlast,  I  and  the  Bourge  of  Companye,  and  I  and  Perot  of 
Vernoys  took  Caluset;  how  dyd  we  scale,  with  lytell  ayde,  the 
strong  castell  of  Marquell,  pertayning  to  the  Erl  Dolphyn:  I  kep 
it  nat  past  fy ve  days,  but  I  receyved  for  it,  on  a  feyre  table,  fyve 
thousande  frankes,  and  forgave  one  thousande  for  the  love  of  the 
Erl  Dolphyn's  children.  By  my  fayth,  this  was  a  fayre  and  a 
good  lyfe!  wherefore  I  repute  myselfe  sore  deceyved,  in  that  I 
have  rendered  up  the  fortress  of  Aloys;  for  it  wolde  have  kept 
fro  alls  the  worlde,  and  the  daye  that  I  gave  it  up,  it  was  four- 
nyshed  with  vytaylles,  to  have  been  kept  seven  yere  without  any 
re-vytayllinge.  This  Erl  of  Armynake  hath  deceyved  me:  Olyve 
Barbe,  and  Perot  le  Bernoys,  shewed  to  me  how  I  shulde  repente 
myselfe:  certayne  I  sore  repente  myselfe  of  what  I  have  done."* 
(Froissart,  vol.  ii.,  p.  195.) 

346 


NOTES 

Note  57,  p.  174 

The  kings  and  heroes  of  Scotland,  as  well  as  the  Border-riders, 
were  sometimes  obliged  to  study  how  to  evade  the  pursuit  of 
bloodhounds.  Barbour  informs  us,  that  Robert  Bruce  was  re- 
peatedly tracked  by  sleuth-dogs.  On  one  occasion,  he  escaped 
by  wading  a  bow-shot  down  a  brook,  and  ascending  into  a  tree 
by  a  branch  which  overhung  the  water;  thus,  leaving  no  trace 
on  land  of  his  footsteps,  he  baffled  the  scent.  The  pursuers  came 
up:  — 

Rycht  to  the  bum  thai  passyt  ware, 
Bot  the  sleuth-hund  made  stinting  thar. 
And  waueryt  lang  tyme  ta  and  fra, 
That  he  na  certain  gate  couth  ga; 
Till  at  the  last  that  John  of  Lome 
Perseuvit  the  hund  the  sleuth  had  lome. 

The  Bruce,  Book  vii. 

A  sure  way  of  stopping  the  dog  was  to  spill  blood  upon  the 
track,  which  destroyed  the  discriminating  fineness  of  his  scent. 
A  captive  was  sometimes  sacrificed  on  such  occasions.  Henry 
the  Minstrel  tells  a  romantic  story  of  Wallace,  founded  on  this 
circumstance:  The  hero's  little  band  had  been  joined  by  an 
Irishman,  named  Fawdoun,  or  Fadzean,  a  dark,  savage,  and 
suspicious  character.  After  a  sharp  skirmish  at  Black-Erne  Side, 
Wallace  was  forced  to  retreat  with  only  sixteen  followers.  The 
English  pursued  with  a  Border  sleiith-hratch,  or  blood-hound. 

In  Gelderland  there  was  that  bratchet  bred, 

Siker  of  scent,  to  follow  them  that  fled; 

So  was  he  used  in  Eske  and  Liddesdail, 

While  (i.e.  till)  she  gat  blood  no  fleeing  might  avail. 

In  the  retreat,  Fawdoun,  tired,  or  affecting  to  be  so,  would  go 
no  further.  Wallace,  having  in  vain  argued  with  him,  in  hasty 
anger,  struck  off  his  head,  and  continued  the  retreat.  When  the 
English  came  up,  their  hound  stayed  upon  the  dead  body:  — 

The  sleuth  stopped  at  Fawdon,  still  she  stood. 
Nor  farther  would  fra  time  she  fund  the  blood. 

The  Story  concludes  with  a  fine  Gothic  scene  of  terror.  Wal- 
lace took  refuge  in  the  solitary  tower  of  Gask.  Here  he  was 
disturbed  at  midnight  by  the  blast  of  a  horn.  He  sent  out  his 

347 


NOTES 

attendants  by  two  and  two,  but  no  one  returned  with  tidings. 
At  length,  when  he  was  left  alone,  the  sound  was  heard  still 
louder.  The  champion  descended,  sword  in  hand;  and,  at  the 
gate  of  the  tower,  was  encountered  by  the  headless  spectre  of 
Fawdoun,  whom  he  had  slain  so  rashly.  Wallace,  in  great  terror, 
fled  up  into  the  tower,  tore  open  the  boards  of  a  window,  leapt 
down  fifteen  feet  in  height,  and  continued  his  flight  up  the  river. 
Looking  back  to  Gask,  he  discovered  the  tower  on  fire,  and  the 
form  of  Fawdoun  upon  the  battlements,  dilated  to  an  immense 
size,  and  holding  in  his  hand  a  blazing  rafter.  The  Minstrel 
concludes,  — 

Trust  ryght  wele,  that  all  this  be  sooth  indeed, 
Supposing  it  be  no  point  of  the  creed. 

The  Wallace,  Book  v. 

Note  58,  p.  175 

Hairibee  was  the  place  of  executing  the  Border  marauders  at 
Carlisle.  The  neck-verse  is  the  beginning  of  the  51st  Psalm, 
Miserere  met,  etc.,  anciently  read  by  criminals  claiming  the 
benefit  of  clergy. 

Note  59,  p.  176 

This  is  a  round  artificial  mount  near  Hawick,  which,  from  its 
name  {Mot,  A.  S.  Concilium,  Conventus),  was  probably  anciently 
used  as  a  place  for  assembling  a  national  council  of  the  ad- 
jacent tribes. 

Note  60,  p.  176 

The  estate  of  Hazeldean,  corruptly  Hassendean,  belonged 
formerly  to  a  family  of  Scotts,  thus  commemorated  by  Satch- 
ells:  — 

Hassendean  came  without  a  call, 
The  ancientest  house  among  them  all. 

Note  61,  p.  177 

A  romantic  assemblage  of  clifYs,  which  rise  suddenly  above  the 
vale  of  Teviot,  in  the  immediate  vicinity  of  the  family-seat,  from 
which  Lord  Minto  takes  his  title.   A  small  platform,  on  a  pro- 

348 


NOTES 

jecting  crag,  commanding  a  most  beautiful  prospect,  is  termed 
Barnhills'  Bed.  This  Barnhills  is  said  to  have  been  a  robber,  or 
outlaw.  There  are  remains  of  a  strong  tower  beneath  the  rocks, 
where  he  is  supposed  to  have  dwelt,  and  from  which  he  derived 
his  name.  On  the  summit  of  the  crags  are  the  fragments  of 
another  ancient  tower,  in  a  picturesque  situation.  Among  the 
houses  cast  down  by  the  Earl  of  Hartforde,  in  1545,  occur  the 
towers  of  Easter  Barnhills,  and  of  Minto-crag,  with  Minto  town 
and  place.  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot,  father  to  the  present  Lord  Minto, 
was  the  author  of  a  beautiful  pastoral  song,  of  which  the  follow- 
ing is  a  more  correct  copy  than  is  usually  published.  The  poeti- 
cal mantle  of  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot  has  descended  to  his  family. 

My  sheep  I  neglected,  I  broke  my  sheep-hook, 
And  all  the  gay  haunts  of  my  youth  I  forsook: 
No  more  for  Amynta  fresh  garlands  I  wove; 
Ambition,  I  said,  would  soon  cure  me  of  love. 
But  what  had  my  youth  with  ambition  to  do; 
Why  left  I  Amynta!  why  broke  I  my  vow! 

Through  regions  remote  in  vain  do  I  rove. 

And  bid  the  wide  world  secure  me  from  love. 

Ah,  fool,  to  imagine,  that  aught  could  subdue 

A  love  so  well  founded,  a  passion  so  true! 

Ah,  give  me  my  sheep,  and  my  sheep-hook  restorel 

And  I'll  wander  from  love  and  Amynta  no  morel 

Alas!  't  is  too  late  at  thy  fate  to  repine! 
Poor  shepherd,  Amynta  no  more  can  be  thine  1 
Thy  tears  are  all  fruitless,  thy  wishes  are  vain, 
The  moments  neglected  return  not  again. 
Ah  I  what  had  my  youth  with  ambition  to  do  I 
Why  left  I  Amynta!  why  broke  I  my  vow! 

Note  62,  p.  177       1 

The  family  of  Riddell  have  been  very  long  in  possession  of  the 
barony  called  Riddell,  or  Ryedale,  part  of  which  still  bears  the 
latter  name.  Tradition  carries  their  antiquity  to  a  point  ex- 
tremely remote;  and  is,  in  some  degree,  sanctioned  by  the  dis- 
covery of  two  stone  coffins,  one  containing  an  earthen  pot  filled 
with  ashes  and  arms,  bearing  a  legible  date,  A.D.  727;  the  other 
dated  936,  and  filled  with  the  bones  of  a  man  of  gigantic  size. 
These  coffins  were  discovered  in  the  foundations  of  what  was, 

349 


NOTES 

but  has  long  ceased  to  be,  the  chapel  of  Riddell;  and  as  it  was 
argued,  with  plausibility,  that  they  contained  the  remains  of 
some  ancestors  of  the  family,  they  were  deposited  in  the  modern 
place  of  sepulture,  comparatively  so  termed,  though  built  in 
1 1  lo.  But  the  following  curious  and  authentic  documents  war- 
rant most  conclusively  the  epithet  of  'ancient  Riddell':  1st, 
a  charter  by  David  I  to  Walter  Rydale,  Sheriff  of  Roxburgh, 
confirming  all  the  estates  of  Liliesclive,  &c.,  of  which  his  father, 
Gervasius  de  Rydale,  died  possessed.  2dly,  a  bull  of  Pope 
Adrian  IV,  confirming  the  will  of  Walter  de  Ridale,  knight,  in 
favour  of  his  brother  Anschittil  de  Ridale,  dated  8th  April,  1 155. 
3dly,  a  bull  of  Pope  Alexander  III,  confirming  the  said  will  of 
Walter  de  Ridale,  bequeathing  to  his  brother  Anschittil  the 
lands  of  Liliesclive,  Whettunes,  &c.,  and  ratifying  the  bargain 
betwixt  Anschittil  and  Huctredus,  concerning  the  church  of 
Liliesclive,  inconsequence  of  the  mediation  of  Malcolm  II,  and 
confirmed  by  a  charter  from  that  monarch.  This  bull  is  dated 
17th  June,  1 160.  4thly,  a  bull  of  the  same  Pope,  confirming  the 
will  of  Sir  Anschittil  de  Ridale,  in  favour  of  his  son  Walter,  con- 
veying the  said  lands  of  Liliesclive  and  others,  dated  loth 
March,  1120.  It  is  remarkable,  that  Liliesclive,  otherwise 
Rydale,  or  Riddell,  and  the  Whittunes,  have  descended,  through 
a  long  train  of  ancestors,  without  ever  passing  into  a  collateral 
line,  to  the  person  of  Sir  John  Buchanan  Riddell,  Bart,  of  Rid- 
dell, the  lineal  descendant  and  representative  of  Sir  Anschittil. 
—  These  circumstances  appeared  worthy  of  notice  in  a  Border 
work. 

Note  63,  p.  178 

An  ancient  seat  of  the  Kerrs  of  Cessford,  now  demolished. 
About  a  quarter  of  a  mile  to  the  northward  lay  the  field  of  battk 
betwixt  Buccleuch  and  Angus,  which  is  called  to  this  day  the 
Skirmish  Field, 

Note  64,  p.  179 

The  ancient  and  beautiful  monastery  of  Melrose  was  founded 
by  King  David  I.   Its  ruins  afford  the  finest  specimen  of  Gothic 

350 


NOTES 

architecture  and  Gothic  sculpture  which  Scotland  can  boast. 
The  stone  of  which  it  is  built,  though  it  has  resisted  the  weather 
for  so  many  ages,  retains  perfect  sharpness,  so  that  even  the 
most  minute  ornaments  seem  as  entire  as  when  newly  wrought. 
In  some  of  the  cloisters  there  are  representations  of  flowers, 
vegetables,  etc.,  carved  in  stone,  with  accuracy  and  precision 
so  delicate,  that  we  almost  distrust  our  senses,  when  we  con- 
sider the  difficulty  of  subjecting  so  hard  a  substance  to  such 
intricate  and  esquisite  modulation.  This  superb  convent  was 
dedicated  to  St.  Mary,  and  the  monks  were  of  the  Cistercian 
order.  At  the  time  of  the  Reformation,  they  shared  in  the  gen- 
eral reproach  of  sensuality  and  irregularity  thrown  upon  the 
Roman  churchmen. 

Note  65,  p.  181 

The  buttresses,  ranged  along  the  sides  of  the  ruins  of  Melrose 
Abbey,  are,  according  to  the  Gothic  style,  richly  carved  and 
fretted,  containing  niches  for  the  statues  of  saints,  and  labelled 
with  scrolls,  bearing  appropriate  texts  of  Scripture.  Most  of 
these  statues  have  been  demolished. 

Note  66,  p.  181 

David  I  of  Scotland  purchased  the  reputation  of  sanctity  by 
founding,  and  liberally  endowing,  not  only  the  monastery  of 
Melrose,  but  those  of  Kelso,  Jedburgh,  and  many  others;  which 
led  to  the  well-known  observation  of  his  successor,  that  he  was 
a  sore  saint  for  the  crown. 

Note  67,  p.  182 

The  Buccleuch  family  were  great  benefactors  to  the  Abbey 
of  Melrose.  As  early  as  the  reign  of  Robert  II,  Robert  Scott, 
Baron  of  Murdieston  and  Rankleburn  (now  Buccleuch),  gave  to 
the  monks  the  lands  of  Hinkery,  in  Ettrick  Forest,  pro  salute 
animce  suce. 

Note  68,  p.  184 

The  Borderers  were,  as  may  be  supposed,  very  ignorant  about 
351 


NOTES 

religious  matters.  Colville,  in  his  Paranesis,  or  Admonition, 
states,  that  the  reformed  divines  were  so  far  from  undertaking 
distant  journeys  to  convert  the  Heathen,  'as  I  wold  wis  at  God 
that  ye  wold  only  go  bot  to  the  Hielands  and  Borders  of  our  own 
realm,  to  gain  our  awin  countreymen,  who,  for  lack  of  preching 
and  ministration  of  the  sacraments,  must,  with  tyme,  becum 
either  infidells,  or  atheists.'  But  we  learn,  from  Lesley,  that, 
however  deficient  in  real  religion,  they  regularly  told  their  beads, 
and  never  with  more  zeal  than  when  going  on  a  plundering 
expedition. 

Note  69,  p.  184 

The  cloisters  were  frequently  used  as  places  of  sepulture.  An 
instance  occurs  in  Dryburgh  Abbey,  where  the  cloister  has  an 
inscription  bearing,  Hie  jacet  f rater  Archibaldus. 

Note  70,  p.  185 

'By  my  faith,'  sayd  the  Duke  of  Lancaster  (to  a  Portuguese 
squire),  'of  all  the  feates  of  armes  that  the  Castellyans,  and 
they  of  your  countrey  doth  use,  the  castynge  of  their  dertes  best 
pleaseth  me,  and  gladly  I  wolde  se  it:  for,  as  I  hear  say,  if  they 
strike  one  aryghte,  without  he  be  well  armed,  the  dart  will 
pierce  him  thrughe.'  'By  my  fayth,  sir,'  sayd  the  squyer,  'ye 
say  trouth ;  for  I  have  seen  many  a  grete  stroke  given  with  them, 
which  at  one  time  cost  us  derely,  and  was  to  us  great  displeasure, 
for,  at  the  said  skyrmishe,  Sir  John  Laurence  of  Coygne  was 
striken  with  a  dart  in  such  wise,  that  the  head  perced  all  the 
plates  of  his  cote  of  mayle,  and  a  sacke  stopped  with  sylke,  and 
passed  thrughe  his  body,  so  that  he  fell  down  dead.'  (Frois- 
sart,  vol.  II,  ch.  44.)  This  mode  of  fighting  with  darts  was 
imitated  in  the  military  game  called  Jeugo  de  las  canas,  which 
the  Spaniards  borrowed  from  their  Moorish  invaders.  A  Saracen 
champion  is  thus  described  by  Froissart:  'Among  the  Sarazyns, 
there  was  a  yonge  knight  called  Agadinger  Dolyferne;  he  was 
always  wel  mounted  on  a  redy  and  a  lyght  horse;  it  seemed, 
when  the  horse  ranne,  that  he  did  fly  in  the  ayre.   The  knighte 


352 


NOTES 

seemed  to  be  a  good  man  of  armes  by  his  dedes ;  he  bare  always 
of  usage  three  fethered  dartes,  and  rychte  well  he  could  handle 
them;  and,  according  to  their  custome,  he  was  clene  armed,  with 
a  long  white  towell  about  his  head.  His  apparell  was  blacke,  and 
his  own  colour  browne,  and  a  good  horseman.  The  Crysten  men 
say,  they  thoughte  he  dyd  such  deeds  of  armes  for  the  love  of 
some  yonge  ladye  of  his  countrey.  And  true  it  was,  that  he  loved 
entirely  the  King  of  Thune's  daughter,  named  the  Lady  Azala; 
she  was  inherytour  to  the  realme  of  Thune,  after  the  discease  of 
the  kyng,  her  father.  This  Agadinger  was  sone  to  the  Duke 
of  Olyferne.  I  can  nat  telle  if  they  were  married  together  after 
or  nat;  but  it  was  shewed  me,  that  this  knyght,  for  love  of  the 
sayd  ladye,  during  the  siege,  did  many  feates  of  armes.  The 
knyghtes  of  France  wold  fayne  have  taken  hym ;  but  they  colde 
never  attrape  nor  inclose  him;  his  horse  was  so  swyft,  and  so 
redy  to  his  hand,  that  alwaies  he  escaped.'  (Vol.  ii,  ch.  71.) 

Note  71,  p.  185 

The  famous  and  desperate  battle  of  Otterburne  was  fought 
15th  August,  1388,  betwixt  Henry  Percy,  called  Hotspur,  and 
James,  Earl  of  Douglas.  Both  these  renowned  champions  were 
at  the  head  of  a  chosen  body  of  troops,  and  they  were  rivals  in 
military  fame;  so  that  Froissart  affirms,  'Of  all  the  battayles  and 
encounteryngs  that  I  have  made  mencion  of  here  before  in  all 
this  hystory,  great  or  smalle,  this  battayle  that  I  treat  of  nowe 
was  one  of  the  sorest  and  best  foughten,  without  cowardes  or 
faynte  hertes:  for  there  was  neyther  knyghte  nor  squyer  but 
that  dyde  his  devoyre,  and  foughte  hande  to  hande.  This  batayle 
was  lyke  the  batayle  of  Becherell,  the  which  was  valiauntly 
fought  and  endured.'  The  issue  of  the  conflict  is  well  known: 
Percy  was  made  prisoner,  and  the  Scots  won  the  day,  dearly 
purchased  by  the  death  of  their  gallant  general,  the  Earl  of 
Douglas,  who  was  slain  in  the  action.  He  was  buried  at  Melrose, 
beneath  the  high  altar.  '  His  obsequye  was  done  reverently,  and 
on  his  bodye  layde  a  tombe  of  stone,  and  his  baner  hangyng 
over  hym.'  (Froissart,  vol.  11,  p.  165.) 

48  353 


NOTES 

Note  72,  p.  186 

William  Douglas,  called  the  Knight  of  Liddesdale,  flourished 
during  the  reign  of  David  II,  and  was  so  distinguished  by  his 
valour,  that  he  was  called  the  Flower  of  Chi\alry.  Nevertheless, 
he  tarnished  his  renown  by  the  cruel  murder  of  Sir  Alexander 
Ramsay  of  Dalhousie,  originally  his  friend  and  brother  in  arms. 
The  King  had  conferred  upon  Ramsay  the  sheriffdom  of  Teviot- 
dale,  to  which  Douglas  pretended  some  claim.  In  revenge  of  this 
preference,  the  Knight  of  Liddesdale  came  down  upon  Ramsay, 
while  he  was  administering  justice  at  Hawick,  seized  and  carried 
him  ofT  to  his  remote  and  inaccessible  castle  of  Hermitage,  where 
he  threw  his  unfortunate  prisoner,  horse  and  man,  into  a  dun- 
geon, and  left  him  to  perish  of  hunger.  It  is  said,  the  miserable 
captive  prolonged  his  existence  for  several  days  by  the  corn 
which  fell  from  a  granary  above  the  vault  in  which  he  was  con- 
fined.^ So  weak  was  the  royal  authority,  that  David,  although 
highly  incensed  at  this  atrocious  murder,  found  himself  obliged 
to  appoint  the  Knight  of  Liddesdale  successor  to  his  victim,  as 
Sheriff  of  Teviotdale.  But  he  was  soon  after  slain,  while  hunting 
in  Ettrick  Forest,  by  his  own  godson  and  chieftain,  William, 
Earl  of  Douglas,  in  revenge,  according  to  some  authors,  of 
Ramsay's  murder;  although  a  popular  tradition,  preserved  in  a 
ballad  quoted  by  Godscroft,  and  some  parts  of  which  are  still 
preserved,  ascribes  the  resentment  of  the  Earl  to  jealousy.  The 

I  There  is  something  affecting  in  the  manner  in  which  the  old  Prior  of  LocWeven 
turns  from  describing  the  death  of  the  gallant  Ramsay,  to  the  general  sorrow 
which  is  excited:  — 

To  tell  you  there  of  the  manere, 

It  is  bot  sorrow  for  til  here; 

He  wes  the  grettast  menyd  man 

That  ony  cowth  have  thowcht  of  than. 

Of  his  state,  or  of  mare  be  fare; 

All  menyt  him,  bath  bettyr  and  war; 

The  ryche  and  pure  him  menyde  bath. 

For  of  his  dede  was  mekil  skath. 

Some  years  ago,  a  person  digging  for  stones,  about  the  old  castle  of  Hermitage, 
broke  into  a  vault,  containing  a  quantity  of  chaff,  some  bones,  and  pieces  of  iron; 
amongst  others,  the  curb  of  an  ancient  bridle  which  the  author  has  since  given  to 
the  Earl  of  Dalhousie,  under  the  impression  that  it  possibly  may  be  a  relic  of  his 
brave  ancestor.  The  worthy  clergyman  of  the  parish  has  mentioned  this  discovery 
in  his  Stalislical  Account  of  CasUetown. 

354 


NOTES 

place  where  the  Knight  of  Liddesdale  was  killed,  is  called,  from 
his  name,  William  Cross,  upon  the  ridge  of  a  hill  called  William 
Hope,  betwixt  Tweed  and  Yarrow.  His  body,  according  to  Gods- 
croft,  was  carried  to  Lindean  church  the  first  night  after  his 
death,  and  thence  to  Melrose,  where  he  was  interred  with  great 
pomp,  and  where  his  tomb  is  still  shown. 

Note  73,  p.  186 

It  is  impossible  to  conceive  a  more  beautiful  specimen  of  the 
lightness  and  elegance  of  Gothic  architecture,  when  in  its  purity, 
than  the  eastern  window  of  Melrose  Abbey.  Sir  James  Hall  of 
Dunglas,  Bart.,  has,  with  great  ingenuity  and  plausibility,  traced 
the  Gothic  order  through  its  various  forms  and  seemingly  eccen- 
tric ornaments,  to  an  architectural  imitation  of  wicker  work;  of 
which,  as  we  learn  from  some  of  the  legends,  the  earliest  Chris- 
tian churches  were  constructed.  In  such  an  edifice,  the  original 
of  the  clustered  pillars  is  traced  to  a  set  of  round  posts,  begirt 
with  slender  rods  of  willow,  whose  loose  summits  were  brought 
to  meet  from  all  quarters,  and  bound  together  artificially,  so  as 
to  produce  the  framework  of  the  roof:  and  the  tracery  of  our 
Gothic  windows  is  displayed  in  the  meeting  and  interlacing  of 
rods  and  hoops,  affording  an  inexhaustible  variety  of  beautiful 
forms  of  open  work.  This  ingenious  system  is  alluded  to  in  the 
romance.  Sir  James  Hall's  Essay  on  Gothic  Architecture  is 
published  in  The  Edinburgh  Philosophical  Transactions. 

Note  74,  p.  186 

A  large  marble  stone,  in  the  chancel  of  Melrose,  is  pointed  out 
as  the  monument  of  Alexander  II,  one  of  the  greatest  of  our 
early  kings;  others  say,  it  is  the  resting-place  of  Waldeve,  one  of 
the  early  abbots,  who  died  in  the  odour  of  sanctity. 

Note  75,  p.  187 

Sir  Michael  Scott  of  Balwearie  flourished  during  the  thirteenth 
century,  and  was  one  of  the  ambassadors  sent  to  bring  the  Maid 

355 


NOTES 

of  Norway  to  Scotland  upon  the  death  of  Alexander  III.  By  a 
poetical  anachronism,  he  is  here  placed  in  a  later  era.  He  was  a 
man  of  much  learning,  chiefly  acquired  in  foreign  countries.  He 
wrote  a  commentary  upon  Aristotle,  printed  at  Venice  in  1496; 
and  several  treatises  upon  natural  philosophy,  from  which  he 
appears  to  have  been  addicted  to  the  abstruse  studies  of  judicial 
astrology,  alchymy,  physiognomy,  and  chiromancy.  Hence  he 
passed  among  his  contemporaries  for  a  skilful  magician.  Demp- 
ster informs  us,  that  he  remembers  to  have  heard  in  his  youth, 
that  the  magic  books  of  Michael  Scott  were  still  in  existence,  but 
could  not  be  opened  without  danger,  on  account  of  the  malig- 
nant fiends  who  were  thereby  invoked.  Dempsteri  Historia 
Ecdesiastica,  1627,  liv.  xii,  p.  495.  Lesely  characterises  Michael 
Scott  as  '  singular ie  philosophice,  astronomice,  ac  medicincB  laude 
prestans ;  dicehatur  penitissimos  magice  recessus  indagdsse.' 
Dante  also  mentions  him  as  a  renowned  wizard :  — 

Queir  altro  che  ne'  fianchi  e  cosi  poco, 
Michele  Scotto  fu,  che  veramente 
Delle  magiche  frode  seppe  il  giuoco. 

Inferno,  canto  xx. 

A  personage,  thus  spoken  of  by  biographers  and  historians, 
loses  little  of  his  mystical  fame  in  vulgar  tradition.  Accordingly, 
the  memory  of  Sir  Michael  Scott  survives  in  many  a  legend ;  and 
in  the  south  of  Scotland,  any  work  of  great  labour  and  antiquity, 
is  ascribed,  either  to  the  agency  of  Aidd  Michael,  of  Sir  William 
Wallace,  or  of  the  devil.  Tradition  varies  concerning  the  place  of 
his  burial;  some  contend  for  Home  Coltrame,  in  Cumberland; 
others  for  Melrose  Abbey.  But  all  agree,  that  his  books  of  magic 
were  interred  in  his  grave,  or  preserved  in  the  convent  where  he 
died.  Satchells,  wishing  to  give  some  authority  for  his  account 
of  the  origin  of  the  name  of  Scott,  pretends,  that,  in  1629,  he 
chanced  to  be  at  Burgh  under  Bowness,  in  Cumberland,  where  a 
person,  named  Lancelot  Scott,  showed  him  an  extract  from  Mi- 
chael Scott's  works,  containing  that  story:  — 

He  said  the  book  which  he  gave  me 
Was  of  Sir  Michael  Scott's  historie; 
Which  history  was  never  ^et  read  through, 
Nor  never  will,  for  no  man  dare  it  do. 


NOTES 

Young  scholars  have  pick'd  out  something 

From  the  contents,  that  dare  not  read  within. 

He  carried  me  along  the  castle  then, 

And  shew'd  his  written  book  hanging  on  an  iron  pin. 

His  writing  pen  did  seem  to  me  to  be 

Of  hardened  metal,  like  steel,  or  accumie; 

The  volume  of  it  did  seem  so  large  to  me, 

As  the  Book  of  Martyrs  and  Turks  historic. 

Then  in  the  church  he  let  me  see 

A  stone  where  Mr  Michael  Scott  did  lie; 

I  asked  at  him  how  that  could  appear, 

Mr  Michael  had  been  dead  above  five  hundred  year? 

He  shew'd  me  none  durst  bury  under  that  stone. 

More  than  he  had  been  dead  a  few  years  agone; 

For  Mr  Michael's  name  does  terrific  each  one. 

History  of  the  Right  Honourable  Name  of  Scott, 


Note  76,  p.  187 

Spain,  from  the  relics,  doubtless,  of  Arabian  learning  and 
superstition,  was  accounted  a  favourite  residence  of  magicians. 
Pope  Sylvester,  who  actually  imported  from  Spain  the  use  of  the 
Arabian  numerals,  was  supposed  to  have  learned  there  the  magic, 
for  which  he  was  stigmatised  by  the  ignorance  of  his  age. 
{.William  of  Malmsbury,  lib.  11,  cap.  10.)  There  were  public 
schools,  where  magic,  or  rather  the  sciences  supposed  to  in- 
volve its  mysteries,  were  regularly  taught,  at  Toledo,  Seville, 
and  Salamanca.  In  the  latter  city,  they  were  held  in  a  deep 
cavern;  the  mouth  of  which  was  walled  up  by  Queen  Isabella, 
wife  of  King  Ferdinand.  (D'Auton,  On  Learned  Incredulity, 
p.  45.)  These  Spanish  schools  of  magic  are  celebrated  also  by 
the  Italian  poets  of  romance:  — 

Questo  citta  di  Tolleto  solea 
Tenere  studio  di  negromanzia, 
Quivi  di  magica  arte  si  leggea 
Pubblicamente,  e  di  peromanzia; 
E  molti  geomanti  sempre  avea, 
Esperimenti  assai  d'  idromanzia 
E  d'  altre  false  opinion'  di  sciocchi 
Come  fi  fatture,  o  spesso  batter  gli  occhi.' 

//  Morgante  Maggiore,  canto  xxv,  St.  259,   ' 

The  celebrated  magician  Maugis,  cousin  to  Rinaldo  of  Mont- 
alban,  called,  by  Ariosto,  Malagigi,  studied  the  black  art  at 
Toledo,  as  we  learn  from  L'Histoire  de  Maugis  D'Aygremont. 

357 


NOTES 

He  even  held  a  professor's  chair  in  the  necromantic  university; 
for  so  I  interpret  the  passage,  'qu'on  tons  les  sept  ars  d'enchantC' 
merit,  des  charmes  et  conjurations,  il  n'y  avoit  meillieur  maistre  que 
lid;  et  en  tel  renom  quon  le  laissoit  en  chaise,  et  Vappelloit  on  mais- 
tre Maiigis.'  This  Salamancan  Domdaniel  is  said  to  have  been 
founded  by  Hercules.  If  the  classic  reader  enquires  where  Hercu- 
les himself  learned  magic,  he  may  consult,  '  Les  faicts  et  proessos 
du  noble  et  vaillarit  Hercules,'  where  he  will  learn,  that  the  fable  of 
his  aiding  Atlas  to  support  the  heavens,  arose  from  the  said 
Atlas  having  taught  Hercules,  the  noble  knight-errant,  the  seven 
liberal  sciences,  and  in  particular,  that  of  judicial  astrology. 
Such,  according  to  the  idea  of  the  middle  ages,  were  the  studies, 
'maximus  quce  docuit  Atlas.'  In  a  romantic  history  of  Roderic, 
the  last  Gothic  King  of  Spain,  he  is  said  to  have  entered  one  of 
those  enchanted  caverns.  It  was  situated  beneath  an  ancient 
tower  near  Toledo ;  and  when  the  iron  gates,  which  secured  the 
entrance,  were  unfolded,  there  rushed  forth  so  dreadful  a  whirl- 
wind, that  hitherto  no  one  had  dared  to  penetrate  into  its  re- 
cesses. But  Roderic,  threatened  with  an  invasion  of  the  Moors, 
resolved  to  enter  the  cavern,  where  he  expected  to  find  some  pro- 
phetic intimation  of  the  event  of  the  war.  Accordingly,  his  train 
being  furnished  with  torches,  so  artificially  composed  that  the 
tempest  could  not  extinguish  them,  the  King,  with  great  dififi- 
culty,  penetrated  into  a  square  hall,  inscribed  all  over  with 
Arabian  characters.  In  the  midst  stood  a  colossal  statue  of  brass, 
representing  a  Saracen  wielding  a  Moorish  mace,  with  which  it 
discharged  furious  blows  on  all  sides,  and  seemed  thus  to  excite 
the  tempest  which  raged  around.  Being  conjured  by  Roderic,  it 
ceased  from  striking,  until  he  read,  inscribed  on  the  right  hand, 
'  Wretched  Monarch,  for  thy  evil  hast  thou  come  hither,'  on  the  left 
hand,  'Thou  shall  be  dispossessed  by  a  strange  people';  on  one 
shoulder,  '/  invoke  the  sons  of  Ilagar' ;  on  the  other,  '/  do  mine 
office.'  When  the  King  had  deciphered  these  ominous  inscrip- 
tions, the  statue  returned  to  its  exercise,  the  tempest  commenced 
anew,  and  Roderic  retired,  to  mourn  over  the  predicted  evils 
which  approached  his  throne.  He  caused  the  gates  of  the  cavern 

358 


NOTES 

to  be  locked  and  barricaded;  but,  in  the  course  of  the  night,  the 
tower  fell  with  a  tremendous  noise,  and  under  its  ruins  concealed 
for  ever  the  entrance  to  the  mystic  cavern.  The  conquest  of 
Spain  by  the  Saracens,  and  the  death  of  the  unfortunate  Don 
Roderic,  fulfilled  the  prophecy  of  the  brazen  statue.  {Historia 
verdadera  del  Rey  Don  Rodrigo  par  el  sabio  Alcayde  Abulcacim, 
traduzeda  de  la  lengua  Arabiga  por  Miquel  de  Luna,  1654, 
cap.  VI.) 

Note  77,  p.  187 

'  Tantamne  rem  tarn  negligenter  ?  *  says  Tyrwhitt,  of  his  prede- 
cessor, Speight ;  who,  in  his  commentary  on  Chaucer,  had  omitted, 
as  trivial  and  fabulous,  the  story  of  Wade  and  his  boat  Guinge- 
lot,  to  the  great  prejudice  of  posterity,  the  memory  of  the  hero 
and  the  boat  being  now  entirely  lost.  That  future  antiquaries 
may  lay  no  such  omission  to  my  charge,  I  have  noted  one  or  two 
of  the  most  current  traditions  concerning  Michael  Scott.  He  was 
chosen,  it  is  said,  to  go  upon  an  embassy,  to  obtain  from  the  King 
of  France  satisfaction  for  certain  piracies  committed  by  his  sub- 
jects upon  those  of  Scotland.  Instead  of  preparing  a  new  equi- 
page and  splendid  retinue,  the  ambassador  retreated  to  his  study, 
opened  his  book,  and  evoked  a  fiend  in  the  shape  of  a  huge  black 
horse,  mounted  upon  his  back,  and  forced  him  to  fly  through  the 
air  towards  France.  As  they  crossed  the  sea,  the  devil  insidiously 
asked  his  rider.  What  it  was  that  the  old  women  of  Scotland  mut- 
tered at  bed-time?  A  less  experienced  wizard  might  have  an- 
swered that  it  was  the  Pater  Noster,  which  would  have  licensed 
the  devil  to  precipitate  him  from  his  back.  But  Michael  sternly 
replied,  'What  is  that  to  thee?  —  Mount,  Diabolus,  and  fly!' 
When  he  arrived  at  Paris,  he  tied  his  horse  to  the  gate  of  the  pal- 
ace, entered,  and  boldly  delivered  his  message.  An  ambassador, 
with  so  little  of  the  pomp  and  circumstance  of  diplomacy,  was 
not  received  with  much  respect,  and  the  King  was  about  to  return 
a  contemptuous  refusal  to  his  demand,  when  Michael  besought 
him  to  suspend  his  resolution  till  he  had  seen  his  horse  stamp 
three  times.  The  first  stamp  shook  every  steeple  in  Paris,  and 

359 


NOTES 

caused  all  the  bells  to  ring;  the  second  threw  down  three  of  the 
towers  of  the  palace;  and  the  infernal  steed  had  lifted  his  hoof  to 
give  the  third  stamp,  when  the  King  rather  chose  to  dismiss  Mi- 
chael, with  the  most  ample  concessions,  than  to  stand  to  the 
probable  consequences.  Another  time,  it  is  said,  that,  when  re- 
siding at  the  Tower  of  Oakwood,  upon  the  Ettrick,  about  three 
miles  above  Selkirk,  he  heard  of  the  fame  of  a  sorceress,  called 
the  Witch  of  Falsehope,  who  lived  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
river.  Michael  went  one  morning  to  put  her  skill  to  the  test, 
but  was  disappointed,  by  her  denying  positively  any  knowledge 
of  the  necromantic  art.  In  his  discourse  with  her,  he  laid  his 
wand  inadvertently  on  the  table,  which  the  hag  observing,  sud- 
denly snatched  it  up,  and  struck  him  with  it.  Feeling  the  force 
of  the  charm,  he  rushed  out  of  the  house;  but,  as  it  had  con- 
ferred on  him  the  external  appearance  of  a  hare,  his  servant, 
who  waited  without,  halloo'd  upon  the  discomfited  wizard  his 
own  greyhounds,  and  pursued  him  so  close,  that  in  order  to 
obtain  a  moment's  breathing  to  reverse  the  charm,  Michael, 
after  a  very  fatiguing  course,  was  fain  to  take  refuge  in  his 
own  jawhole  {Anglice,  common  sewer).  In  order  to  revenge 
himself  of  the  witch  of  Falsehope,  Michael,  one  morning  in  the 
ensuing  harvest,  went  to  the  hill  above  the  house  with  his  dogs, 
and  sent  down  his  servant  to  ask  a  bit  of  bread  from  the  good- 
wife  for  his  greyhounds,  with  instructions  what  to  do  if  he  met 
with  a  denial.  Accordingly,  when  the  witch  had  refused  the 
boon  with  contumely,  the  servant,  as  his  master  had  directed, 
laid  above  the  door  a  paper  which  he  had  given  him,  contain- 
ing, amongst  many  cabalistical  words,  the  well-known  rhyme, 

Maister  Michael  Scott's  man 
Sought  meat,  and  gat  nane. 

Immediately  the  good  old  woman,  instead  of  pursuing  her 
domestic  occupation,  which  was  baking  bread  for  the  reapers, 
began  to  dance  round  the  fire,  repeating  the  rhyme,  and  continued 
this  exercise  till  her  husband  sent  the  reapers  to  the  house,  one 
after  another,  to  see  what  had  delayed  their  provision;  but  the 
charm  caught  each  as  they  entered,  and,  losing  all  idea  of  return- 

360 


NOTES 

ing,  they  joined  in  the  dance  and  chorus.  At  length  the  old  man 
himself  went  to  the  house;  but  as  his  wife's  frolic  with  Mr.  Mi- 
chael, whom  he  had  seen  on  the  hill,  made  him  a  little  cautious, 
he  contented  himself  with  looking  in  at  the  window,  and  saw  the 
reapers  at  their  involuntary  exercise,  dragging  his  wife,  now 
completely  exhausted,  sometimes  round,  and  sometimes  through, 
the  fire,  which  was,  as  usual,  in  the  midst  of  the  house.  Instead 
of  entering,  he  saddled  a  horse,  and  rode  up  the  hill,  to  humble 
himself  before  Michael,  and  beg  a  cessation  of  the  spell ;  which  the 
good-natured  warlock  immediately  granted,  directing  him  to  en- 
ter the  house  backwards,  and,  with  his  left  hand,  take  the  spell 
from  above  the  door;  which  accordingly  ended  the  supernatural 
dance.  This  tale  was  told  less  particularly  in  former  editions, 
and  I  have  been  censured  for  inaccuracy  in  doing  so.  A  similar 
charm  occurs  in  Huon  de  Bourdeaux,  and  in  the  ingenious  Ori- 
ental tale,  called  the  Caliph  Vathek. 

Notwithstanding  his  victory  over  the  witch  of  Falsehope, 
Michael  Scott,  like  his  predecessor  Merlin,  fell  at  last  a  victim 
to  female  art.  His  wife,  or  concubine,  elicited  from  him  the 
secret,  that  his  art  could  ward  off  any  danger  except  the  poisonous 
qualities  of  broth  made  of  the  flesh  of  a  breme  sow.  Such  a  mess 
she  accordingly  administered  to  the  wizard,  who  died  in  conse- 
quence of  eating  it;  surviving,  however,  long  enough  to  put  to 
death  his  treacherous  confidant. 

Note  78,  p.  187 

Michael  Scott  was,  once  upon  a  time,  much  embarrassed  by  a 
spirit,  for  whom  he  was  under  the  necessity  of  finding  constant 
employment.  He  commanded  him  to  build  a  cauld,  or  damhead, 
across  the  Tweed  at  Kelso;  it  was  accomplished  in  one  night,  and 
still  does  honour  to  the  infernal  architect.  Michael  next  ordered 
that  Eildon  Hill,  which  was  then  a  uniform  cone,  should  be  di- 
vided into  three.  Another  night  was  sufficient  to  part  its  summit 
into  the  three  picturesque  peaks  which  it  now  bears.  At  length 
the  enchanter  conquered  this  indefatigable  demon,  by  employing 

361 


NOTES 

him  in  the  hopeless  and  endless  task  of  making  ropes  out  of  sea- 
sand. 

Note  79,  p.  189 

Baptista  Porta,  and  other  authors  who  treat  of  natural  magic, 
talk  much  of  eternal  lamps,  pretended  to  have  been  found  burn- 
ing in  ancient  sepulchres.  Fortunius  Licetus  investigates  the 
subject  in  a  treatise,  De  Lucernis  Antiquoriim  Reconditis,  pub- 
lished at  Venice,  1621.  One  of  these  perpetual  lamps  is  said  to 
have  been  discovered  in  the  tomb  of  Tulliola,  the  daughter  of 
Cicero.  The  wick  was  supposed  to  be  composed  of  asbestos. 
Kircher  enumerates  three  different  recipes  for  constructing 
such  lamps;  and  wisely  concludes,  that  the  thing  is  neverthe- 
less impossible.  {Mundus  Suhterranneus,  p.  72.)  Delrio  im- 
putes the  fabrication  of  such  lights  to  magical  skill.  (Disqui- 
sitiones  MagiccE,  p.  58.)  In  a  very  rare  romance,  which  'treateth 
of  the  life  of  Virgilius,  and  of  his  deth,  and  many  marvayles 
that  he  dyd  in  his  lyfe-time,  by  wychecrafte  and  nygraman- 
cye,  throughe  the  helpe  of  the  devyls  of  hell,'  mention  is  made 
of  a  very  extraordinary  process,  in  which  one  of  these  mystical 
lamps  was  employed.  It  seems  that  Virgil,  as  he  advanced  in 
years,  became  desirous  of  renovating  his  youth  by  magical 
art.  For  this  purpose  he  constructed  a  solitary  tower,  hav- 
ing only  one  narrow  portal,  in  which  he  placed  twenty-four 
copper  figures,  armed  with  iron  flails,  twelve  on  each  side  of 
the  porch.  These  enchanted  statues  struck  with  their  flails 
incessantly,  and  rendered  all  entrance  impossible,  unless  when 
Virgil  touched  the  spring,  which  stopped  their  motion.  To  this 
tower  he  repaired  privately,  attended  by  one  trusty  servant,  to 
whom  he  communicated  the  secret  of  the  entrance,  and  hither 
they  conveyed  all  the  magician's  treasure.  'Then  sayde  Virgi- 
lius, my  dere  beloved  frende,  and  he  that  I  above  alle  men  truste 
and  knowe  mooste  of  my  secret ' ;  and  then  he  led  the  man  into  a 
cellar,  where  he  made  afayer  lamp  at  all  seasons  hurnynge,  'And 
then  sayd  Virgilius  to  the  man,  "  Se  you  the  barrel  that  standeth 
here?"  and  he  sayd,  yea:  "Therein  must  thou  put  me:  fyrst  ye 

362 


NOTES 

must  slee  me,  and  hewe  me  smalle  to  pieces,  and  cut  my  hed  in 
iiii  pieces,  and  salte  the  heed  under  in  the  bottom,  and  then  the 
pieces  there  after,  and  my  herte  in  the  myddel,  and  then  set  the 
barrel  under  the  lampe,  that  nyghte  and  day  the  fat  therein 
may  droppe  and  leake;  and  ye  shall  ix  dayes  long,  ones  in  the 
day,  fyll  the  lampe,  and  fayle  nat.  And  when  this  is  all  done, 
then  shall  I  be  renued,  and  made  yonge  agen. " '  At  this  extraor- 
dinary proposal,  the  confidant  was  sore  abashed,  and  made  some 
scruple  of  obeying  his  master's  commands.  At  length,  however, 
he  complied,  and  Virgil  was  slain,  pickled,  and  barrelled  up,  in 
all  respects  according  to  his  own  direction.  The  servant  then  left 
the  tower,  taking  care  to  put  the  copper  thrashers  in  motion  at 
his  departure.  He  continued  daily  to  visit  the  tower  with  the 
same  precaution.  Meanwhile,  the  emperor,  with  whom  Virgil 
was  a  great  favourite,  missed  him  from  the  court,  and  demanded 
of  his  servant  where  he  was.  The  domestic  pretended  ignorance, 
till  the  emperor  threatened  him  with  death,  when  at  length  he 
conveyed  him  to  the  enchanted  tower.  The  same  threat  extorted 
a  discovery  of  the  mode  of  stopping  the  statues  from  wielding 
their  flails.  'And  then  the  emperour  entered  into  the  castle  with 
all  his  folke,  and  sought  all  aboute  in  every  corner  after  Virgilius ; 
and  at  the  laste  they  soughte  so  longe,  that  they  came  into  the 
seller,  where  they  sawe  the  lampe  hang  over  the  barrell,  where 
Virgilius  lay  in  deed.  Then  asked  the  emperour  the  man,  who 
had  made  hym  so  herdy  to  put  his  mayster  Virgilius  so  to  dethe; 
and  the  man  answered  no  worde  to  the  emperour.  And  then  the 
emperour,  with  great  anger,  drewe  out  his  sworde,  and  slewe  he 
there  Virgilius's  man.  And  when  all  this  was  done,  then  saw  the 
emperour,  and  all  his  folke,  a  naked  child  iii  tymes  rennynge 
about  the  barrell,  saynge  these  wordes,  "Cursed  be  the  tyme 
that  ye  ever  came  here."  And  with  those  words  vanyshed  the 
chylde  awaye,  and  was  never  sene  ageyn ;  and  thus  abyd  Virgilius 
in  the  barrell  deed.'  (Virgilius,  bl.  let.,  printed  at  Antwerpe  by 
John  Doesborcke.  This  curious  volume  is  in  the  valuable  library 
of  Mr.  Douce;  and  is  supposed  to  be  a  translation  from  the 
French,  printed  in  Flanders  for  the  English  market.    See  Goujet 

363 


NOTES 

Biblioth.  Franc,  IX,  22S;  Catalogue  de  la  Bibliothtque  Nationale, 
torn.  II,  p.  5;  De  Bure,  no.  3857.) 


Note  80,  p.  191 

William  of  Deloraine  might  be  strengthened  in  this  belief  by 
the  well-known  story  of  the  Cid  Ruy  Diaz.  When  the  body  of 
that  famous  Christian  champion  was  sitting  in  state  by  the  high 
altar  of  the  cathedral  church  of  Toledo,  where  it  remained  for 
ten  years,  a  certain  malicious  Jew  attempted  to  pull  him  by  the 
beard ;  but  he  had  no  sooner  touched  the  formidable  whiskers, 
than  the  corpse  started  up,  and  half  unsheathed  his  sword.  The 
Israelite  fled;  and  so  permanent  was  the  effect  of  his  terror,  that 
he  became  a  Christian.  Heywood's  Hierarchie,  p.  480,  quoted 
from  Sebastian  Cobarruvia's  Crozee. 

Note  81,  p.  196 

The  idea  of  Lord  Cranstoun's  Goblin  Page  is  taken  from  a 
being  called  Gilpin  Horner,  who  appeared,  and  made  some  stay, 
at  a  farm-house  among  the  Border-mountains.  A  gentleman  of 
that  country  has  noted  down  the  following  particulars  concern- 
ing his  appearance:  — 

'The  only  certain,  at  least  most  probable  account,  that  ever  I 
heard  of  Gilpin  Horner,  was  from  an  old  man,  of  the  name  of 
Anderson,  who  was  born,  and  lived  all  his  life,  at  Todshaw  hill, 
in  Eskedale  Muir,  the  place  where  Gilpin  appeared  and  staid  for 
some  time.  He  said  there  were  two  men,  late  in  the  evening, 
when  it  was  growing  dark,  employed  in  fastening  the  horses  upon 
the  uttermost  part  of  their  ground,  (that  is,  tying  their  forefeet 
together,  to  hinder  them  from  travelling  far  in  the  night,)  when 
they  heard  a  voice,  at  some  distance,  crying,  "  Tint  !  tint !  tint  !"^ 
One  of  the  men,  named  Moffat,  called  out,  "What  deil  has  tint 
you?  Come  here."  Immediately  a  creature,  of  something  like  a 
human  form,  appeared.    It  was  surprisingly  little,  distorted  in 

1  Tint  signifies  lost. 


NOTES 

features,  and  misshapne  in  limbs.  As  soon  as  the  two  men  could 
see  it  plainly,  they  ran  home  in  a  great  fright,  imagining  they 
had  met  with  some  goblin.  By  the  way  Moffat  fell,  and  it  ran 
over  him,  and  was  home  at  the  house  as  soon  as  either  of  them, 
and  staid  there  a  long  time;  but  I  cannot  say  how  long.  It  was 
real  flesh  and  blood,  and  ate  and  drank,  was  fond  of  cream,  and, 
when  it  could  get  at  it,  would  destroy  a  great  deal.  It  seemed  a 
mischievous  creature;  and  any  of  the  children  whom  it  could 
master,  it  would  beat  and  scratch  without  mercy.  It  was  once 
abusing  a  child  belonging  to  the  same  Moffat,  who  had  been  so 
frightened  by  its  first  appearance ;  and  he,  in  a  passion,  struck  it 
so  violent  a  blow  upon  the  side  of  the  head,  that  it  tumbled  upon 
the  ground,  but  it  was  not  stunned ;  for  it  set  up  its  head  directly, 
and  exclaimed,  "Ah  hah.  Will  o'  Moffat,  you  strike  sair!' 
After  it  had  staid  there  long,  one  evening,  when  the  women 
were  milking  the  cows  in  the  loan,  it  was  playing  among  the 
children  near  by  them,  when  suddenly  they  heard  a  loud  shrill 
voice  cry,  three  times,  "Gilpin  Horner  !"  It  started,  and  said, 
"  That  is  me,  I  must  away,"  and  instantly  disappeared,  and  was 
never  heard  of  more.  Old  Anderson  did  not  remember  it,  but 
said,  he  had  often  heard  his  father,  and  other  old  men  in  the 
place,  who  were  there  at  the  time,  speak  about  it;  and  in  my 
younger  years  I  have  often  heard  it  mentioned,  and  never  met 
with  any  who  had  the  remotest  doubt  as  to  the  truth  of  the  story ; 
although,  I  must  own,  I  cannot  help  thinking  there  must  be  some 
misrepresentation  in  it.'  To  this  account,  I  have  to  add  the 
following  particulars  from  the  most  respectable  authority. 
Besides  constantly  repeating  the  word  tint !  tint !  Gilpin  Horner 
was  often  heard  to  call  upon  Peter  Bertram,  or  Be-te-ram,  as  he 
pronounced  the  word;  and  when  the  shrill  voice  called  Gilpin 
Horner,  he  immediately  acknowledged  it  was  the  summons  of 
the  said  Peter  Bertram;  who  seems  therefore  to  have  been  the 
devil  who  had  tint,  or  lost,  the  little  imp.  As  much  has  been 
objected  to  Gilpin  Horner  on  account  of  his  being  supposed 
rather  a  device  of  the  author  than  a  popular  superstition,  I  can 
only  say,  that  no  legend  which  I  ever  heard  seemed  to  be  more 

365 


NOTES 

universally  credited,  and  that  many  persons  of  very  good  rank 
and  considerable  information  are  well  known  to  repose  absolute 
faith  in  the  tradition. 

Note  82,  p.  198 

'Upon  25th  June,  1557,  Dame  Janet  Beatoune  Lady  Buc- 
cleuch,  and  a  great  number  of  the  name  of  Scott,  delaitit  (ac- 
cused) for  coming  to  the  kirk  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Lowes,  to  the 
number  of  two  hundred  persons  bodin  in  feire  of  weire,  (arrayed 
in  armour),  and  breaking  open  the  door  of  the  said  kirk,  in  order 
to  apprehend  the  Laird  of  Cranstoune  for  his  destruction.'  On 
the  20th  July,  a  warrant  from  the  Queen  is  presented,  discharg- 
ing the  justice  to  proceed  against  the  Lady  Buccleuch  while 
new  calling.  (Abridgement  of  Books  of  Adjournal,  in  Advocates' 
Library.)  The  following  proceedings  upon  this  case  appear  on 
the  record  of  the  Court  of  Justiciary:  On  the  25th  of  June,  1557, 
Robert  Scott,  in  Bowhill  parish,  priest  of  the  kirk  of  St.  Mary's, 
accused  of  the  convocation  of  the  Queen's  lieges,  to  the  number 
of  200  persons,  in  warlike  array,  with  jacks,  helmets,  and  other 
weapons,  and  marching  to  the  chapel  of  St.  Mary  of  the  Lowes, 
for  the  slaughter  of  Sir  Peter  Cranstoun,  out  of  ancient  feud  and 
malice  prepense,  and  of  breaking  the  doors  of  the  said  kirk,  is 
repledged  by  the  Archbishop  of  Glasgow.  The  bail  given  by 
Robert  Scott  of  Allanhaugh,  Adam  Scott  of  Burnfute,  Robert 
Scott  in  Howfurde,  Walter  Scott  in  Todshawhaugh,  Walter 
Scott  younger  of  Synton,  Thomas  Scott  of  Hayning,  Robert 
Scott,  William  Scott,  and  James  Scott,  brothers  of  the  said 
Walter  Scott,  Walter  Scott  in  the  WoU,  and  Walter  Scott,  son  of 
William  Scott  of  Harden,  and  James  Wemyss  in  Eckford,  all 
accused  of  the  same  crime,  is  declared  to  be  forfeited.  On  the 
same  day,  Walter  Scott  of  Synton,  and  Walter  Chisholme  of 
Chisholme,  and  William  Scott  of  Harden,  became  bound,  jointly 
and  severally,  that  Sir  Peter  Cranstoun,  and  his  kindred  and 
servants,  should  receive  no  injury  from  them  in  future.  At  the 
same  time,  Patrick  Murray  of  Fallohill,  Alexander  Stuart,  uncle 
to  the  Laird  of  Trakwhare,  John  Murray  of  Newhall,  John 

366 


NOTES 

Fairlye,  residing  in  Selkirk,  George  Tait,  younger  of  Pirn,  John 
Pennycuke  of  Pennycuke,  James  Ramsay  of  Cokpen,  the  Laird 
of  Fassyde,  and  the  Laird  of  Henderstoune,  were  all  severally 
fined  for  not  attending  as  jurors;  being  probably  either  in  alli- 
ance with  the  accused  parties,  or  dreading  their  vengeance.  Upon 
the  20th  of  July  following,  Scott  of  Synton,  Chisholme  of  Chis- 
holme,  Scott  of  Harden,  Scott  of  Howpaslie,  Scott  of  Burnfute, 
with  many  others,  are  ordered  to  appear  at  next  calling,  under 
the  pains  of  treason.  But  no  farther  procedure  seems  to  have 
taken  place.  It  is  said,  that,  upon  this  rising,  the  kirk  of  St. 
Mary  was  burnt  by  the  Scotts. 

Note  83,  p.  202 

The  crest  of  the  Cranstouns,  in  allusion  to  their  name,  is  a 
crane  dormant,  holding  a  stone  in  his  foot,  with  an  emphatic 
Border  motto,  Thou  shall  want  ere  I  want. 

Note  84,  p.  205 

'At  Unthank,  two  miles  N.E.  from  the  church  (of  Ewes)  there 
are  the  ruins  of  a  chapel  for  divine  service,  in  time  of  Popery. 
There  is  a  tradition,  that  friars  were  wont  to  come  from  Melrose, 
or  Jedburgh,  to  baptise  and  marry  in  this  parish;  and  from  being 
in  use  to  carry  the  mass-book  in  their  bosoms,  they  were  called, 
by  the  inhabitants,  Book-a-bosomes.  There  is  a  man  yet  alive, 
who  knew  old  men  who  had  been  baptised  by  these  Book-a 
bosomes,  and  who  says  one  of  them,  called  Hair,  used  this  parish 
for  a  very  long  time.'  (Account  of  Parish  of  Ewes,  apud  Macfar- 
lane's  MS.) 

Note  85,  p.  205 

Glamour,  in  the  legends  of  Scottish  superstition,  means  the 
magic  power  of  imposing  on  the  eyesight  of  the  spectators,  so 
that  the  appearance  of  an  object  shall  be  totally  different  from 
the  reality.  The  transformation  of  Michael  Scott  by  the  witch  of" 

367 


NOTES 

Falsehope,  already  mentioned,  was  a  genuine  operation  of 
glamour.  To  a  similar  charm  the  ballad  of  Johnny  Fa'  imputes 
the  fascination  of  the  lovely  Countess,  who  eloped  with  that 
gipsy  leader :  — 

Sae  soon  as  they  saw  her  weel-far'd  face. 
They  cast  the  glamour  o'er  her. 

It  was  formerly  used  even  in  war.  In  1381,  when  the  Duke  of 
Anjou  lay  before  a  strong  castle,  upon  the  coast  of  Naples,  a 
necromancer  offered  to  'make  the  ayre  so  thycke,  that  they 
within  shall  thynke  that  there  is  a  great  bridge  on  the  see  (by 
which  the  castle  was  surrounded)  for  ten  men  to  go  a  front;  and 
whan  they  within  the  castle  se  this  bridge,  they  will  be  so  afrayde, 
that  they  shall  yelde  them  to  your  mercy.  The  Duke  demanded, 
"  Fayre  Master,  on  this  bridge  that  ye  speke  of,  may  our  peo- 
ple assuredly  go  thereon  to  the  castell  to  assayle  it?"  "Syr," 
quod  the  enchantour,  "I  dare  not  assure  you  that;  for  if  any 
that  passeth  on  the  bridge  make  the  signe  of  the  crosse  on  hym, 
all  shall  go  to  noughte,  and  they  that  be  on  the  bridge  shall 
fall  into  the  see."  Then  the  Duke  began  to  laugh;  and  a  certain 
of  young  knightes,  that  were  there  present,  said,  "Syr,  for  god- 
sake,  let  the  mayster  assey  his  cunning:  we  shal  leve  making  of 
any  signe  of  the  crosse  on  us  for  that  tyme." '  The  Earl  of  Savoy, 
shortly  after,  entered  the  tent,  and  recognised  in  the  enchanter 
the  same  person  who  had  put  the  castle  into  the  power  of  Sir 
Charles  do  la  Payx,  who  then  held  it,  by  persuading  the  garrison 
of  the  Queen  of  Naples,  through  magical  deception,  that  the  sea 
was  coming  over  the  walls.  The  sage  avowed  the  feat,  and  added, 
that  he  was  the  man  in  the  world  most  dreaded  by  Sir  Charles  de 
la  Payx.  '"By  my  fayth,"  quod  the  Earl  of  Savoy,  "ye  say 
well ;  and  I  will  that  Syr  Charles  de  la  Payx  shall  know  that  he 
hath  gret  wronge  to  fear  you.  But  I  shall  assure  hym  of  you; 
for  ye  shall  never  do  enchantment  to  deceyve  hym,  nor  yet  none 
other.  I  wolde  nat  that  in  tyme  to  come  we  shulde  be  reproached 
that  in  so  high  an  enterprise  as  we  be  in,  wherein  there  be  so 
many  noble  knyghtes  and  squyres  assembled,  that  we  shulde  do 
any  thyng  be  enchantment,  nor  that  we  shulde  wyn  our  enemys 

368 


NOTES 

be  suche  crafte."  Then  he  called  to  him  a  servaunt,  and  said,  "Go 
and  get  a  hangman,  and  let  him  stryke  of  this  mayster's  heed 
without  delay;"  and  as  soone  as  the  Erie  had  commanded  it, 
incontynent  it  was  done,  for  his  heed  was  stryken  of  before  the 
Erie's  tent.'   (Froissart,  vol.  i,  ch.  391,  392.) 

The  art  of  glamour,  or  other  fascination,  was  anciently  a 
principal  part  of  the  skill  of  the  jongleur,  or  juggler,  whose  tricks 
formed  much  of  the  amusement  of  a  Gothic  castle.  Some  in- 
stances of  this  art  may  be  found  in  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border,  vol.  iv,  p.  106.  In  a  strange  allegorical  poem,  called  the 
Houlat,  written  by  a  dependent  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  about 
1452-53,  the  jay,  in  an  assembly  of  birds,  plays  the  part  of  the 
juggler.   His  feats  of  glamour  are  thus  described:  — 

He  gart  them  see,  as  it  semyt  in  samyn  houre. 

Hunting  at  licrdis  in  holtis  so  hair; 
Some  sailand  on  the  sec  schippis  of  toure, 
Bernis  battalland  on  burd  brim  as  a  bare; 
He  coulde  carye  the  coup  of  the  kingis  des. 
Syne  leve  in  tlie  stede, 
Bot  a  black  bunwede; 
He  could  of  a  henis  hede 
Make  a  man  mes. 

He  gart  the  Emproure  trow,  and  trewlye  behald. 

That  the  corncraik,  the  pundare  at  hand. 
Had  poyndit  all  his  pris  hors  in  a  poynd  fald, 

Because  thai  ete  of  the  corn  in  the  kirkland. 
He  could  wirk  windaris,  quhat  way  that  he  wald, 

Mak  a  gray  gus  a  gold  garland, 
A  lang  spere  of  a  bittile,  for  a  berne  bald, 

Nobilis  of  nutschelles —  and  silver  of  sand. 
Thus  joukit  with  juxters  the  janglane  ja, 

Fair  ladyes  in  ringis, 

Knychtis  in  caralyngis, 

Bayth  dansis  and  singis, 
It  semyt  as  sa. 

Note  86,  p.  206 

Dr.  Henry  More,  in  a  letter  prefixed  to  Glanville's  Saducismus 
Triumphatus,  mentions  a  similar  phenomenon :  — 

*  I  remember  an  old  gentleman  in  the  country  of  my  acquaint- 
ance, an  excellent  justice  of  peace,  and  a  piece  of  a  mathema- 
tician; but  what  kind  of  a  philosopher  he  was,  you  may  under- 

*e  369 


NOTES 

stand  from  a  rhyme  of  his  own  making,  which  he  commended 
to  me  at  my  taking  horse  in  his  yard,  which  rhyme  is  this:  — 

Ens  is  nothing  till  sense  finds  out: 

Sense  ends  in  nothing,  so  naught  goes  about. 

Which  rhyme  of  his  was  so  rapturous  to  himself,  that,  on  the 
reciting  of  the  second  verse,  the  old  man  turned  himself  about 
upon  his  toe  as  nimbly  as  one  may  observe  a  dry  leaf  whisked 
round  the  corner  of  an  orchard-walk  by  some  little  whirlwind. 
With  this  philosopher  I  have  had  many  discourses  concerning  the 
immortality  of  the  soul  and  its  distinction;  when  I  have  run  him 
quite  down  by  reason,  he  would  but  laugh  at  me,  and  say,  this  is 
logic,  H.  (calling  me  by  my  Christian  name) ;  to  which  I  replyed, 
this  is  reason,  father  L.  (for  so  I  used  and  some  others  to  call 
him);  but  it  seems  you  are  for  the  new  lights,  and  immediate 
inspiration,  which  I  confess  he  was  as  little  for  as  for  the  other; 
but  I  said  so  only  in  the  way  of  drollery  to  him  in  those  times, 
but  truth  is,  nothing  but  palpable  experience  would  move  him; 
and  being  a  bold  man,  and  fearing  nothing,  he  told  me  had  used 
all  the  magical  ceremonies  of  conjuration  he  could,  to  raise  the 
devil  or  a  spirit,  and  had  a  most  earnest  desire  to  meet  with  one, 
but  never  could  do  it.  But  this  he  told  me,  when  he  did  not  so 
much  as  think  of  it,  while  his  servant  was  pulling  off  his  boots  in 
the  hall,  some  invisible  hand  gave  him  such  a  clap  upon  the 
back,  that  it  made  all  ring  again;  "So,"  thought  he  now,  "I  am 
invited  to  the  converse  of  my  spirit,"  and  therefore,  so  soon  as 
his  boots  were  off,  and  his  shoes  on,  out  he  goes  into  the  yard  and 
next  field,  to  find  out  the  spirit  that  had  given  him  this  familiar 
clap  on  the  back,  but  found  none  neither  in  the  yard  nor  field 
next  to  it. 

'  But  though  he  did  not  feel  this  stroke,  albeit  he  thought  it 
afterwards  (finding  nothing  came  of  it)  a  mere  delusion;  yet  not 
long  before  his  death,  it  had  more  force  with  him  than  all  the 
philosophical  arguments  I  could  use  to  him,  though  I  could 
wind  him  and  nonplus  him  as  I  pleased;  but  yet  all  my  argu- 
ments, how  solid  soever,  made  no  impression  upon  him;  where- 
fore, after  several  reasonings  of  this  nature,  whereby  I  would 

370 


NOTES 

prove  to  him  the  soul's  distinction  from  the  body,  and  its 
immortality,  when  nothing  of  such  subtile  consideration  did  any 
more  execution  on  his  mind  than  some  lightning  is  said  to  do, 
though  it  melts  the  sword,  on  the  fuzzy  consistency  of  the  scab- 
bard, —  "Well,"  said  I,  "father  L.,  though  none  of  these  things 
move  you,  I  have  something  still  behind,  and  what  yourself  has 
acknowledged  to  be  true,  that  may  do  the  business:  —  Do  you 
remember  the  clap  on  your  back  when  your  servant  was  pulling 
off  your  boots  in  the  hall?  Assure  yourself,  says  I,  father  L., 
that  goblin  will  be  the  first  to  bid  you  welcome  into  the  other 
world."  Upon  that  his  countenance  changed  most  sensibly,  and 
he  was  more  confounded  with  this  rubbing  up  his  memory,  than 
with  all  the  rational  or  philosophical  argumentations  that  I 
could  produce.' 

Note  87,  p.  208 

It  is  a  firm  article  of  popular  faith,  that  no  enchantment  can 
subsist  in  a  living  stream.  Nay,  if  you  can  interpose  a  brook 
betwixt  you  and  witches,  spectres,  or  even  fiends,  you  are  in. 
perfect  safety.  Burns's  inimitable  Tarn  0'  Shanter  turns  entirely 
upon  such  a  circumstance.  The  belief  seems  to  be  of  antiquity. 
Brompton  informs  us,  that  certain  Irish  wizards  could,  by 
spells,  convert  earthen  clods,  or  stones,  into  fat  pigs,  which  they 
sold  in  the  market;  but  which  always  reassumed  their  proper 
form,  when  driven  by  the  deceived  purchaser  across  a  running 
stream.  But  Brompton  is  severe  on  the  Irish  for  a  very  good 
reason.  'Gens  ista  spurcissima  non  solvunt  decimas.'  {Chroni- 
con  Johannis  Brompton  apud  decern  Scriptores,  p.  1076.) 

Note  88,  p.  211 

Imitated  from  Drayton's  account  of  Robin  Hood  and  his 
followers:  — 

A  hundred  valiant  men  had  this  brave  Robin  Hood, 
Still  ready  at  his  call,  that  bowmen  were  right  good: 
All  clad  in  Lincoln  green,  with  caps  of  red  and  blue, 
His  fellow's  winded  horn  not  one  of  them  but  knew. 
When  setting  to  their  lips  their  bugles  shrill, 
The  warbling  echoes  waked  from  every  dale  and  hill; 


NOTES 

Their  bauldrics  set  with  studs  athwart  their  shoulders  cast, 

To  which  under  their  arms  their  sheafs  were  buckled  fast, 

A  short  sword  at  their  belt,  a  buckler  scarce  a  span. 

Who  struck  below  the  knee  not  counted  then  a  man. 

All  made  of  Spanish  yew,  their  bows  were  wondrous  strong, 

They  not  an  arrow  drew  but  was  a  clothyard  long. 

Of  archery  they  had  the  very  perfect  craft, 

With  broad  arrow,  or  but,  or  prick,  or  roving  shaft. 

Poly-Albion,  Song  26. 

To  wound  an  antagonist  in  the  thigh,  or  leg,  was  reckoned 
contrary  to  the  law  of  arms.  In  a  tilt  betwixt  Gawain  Michael, 
an  English  squire,  and  Joachim  Cathore,  a  Frenchman,  'they 
met  at  the  speare  poyntes  rudely:  the  French  squyer  justed  right 
pleasantly,  the  Englishman  ran  too  lowe,  for  he  strak  the 
Frenchman  depe  into  the  thigh.  Wherewith  the  Erie  of  Buck- 
ingham was  right  sore  displeased,  and  so  were  all  the  other  lords, 
and  sayde  how  it  was  shamefully  done.'  (Froissart,  vol.  I,  chap. 
366.)  Upon  a  similar  occasion,  '  the  two  knyghts  came  a  fote 
eche  against  other  rudely,  with  their  speares  low  couched,  to 
str>'ke  eche  other  within  the  foure  quarters.  Johan  of  Castell- 
Morant  strake  the  English  squyer  on  the  brest  in  such  wyse,  that 
Syr  Wyllyam  Fermetone  stombled  and  bowed,  for  his  fote  a 
lyttel  fayled  him.  He  helde  his  speare  lowe  with  both  his  handes, 
and  coude  nat  amende  it,  and  strake  Syr  Johan  of  the  Castell- 
Morant  in  the  thighe,  so  that  the  speare  went  clene  throughe, 
that  the  heed  was  sene  a  handfull  on  the  other  syde.  And  Syr 
Johan  with  the  stroke  reled,  but  he  fell  nat.  Than  the  Englyshe 
knyghtes  and  squyers  were  ryghte  sore  displeased,  and  sayde 
how  it  was  a  foule  stroke.  Syr  Wyllyam  Fermetone  excused 
himselfe,  and  sayde  how  he  was  sorie  of  that  adventure,  and 
howe  that  yf  he  had  knowen  that  it  shulde  have  bene  so,  he 
wolde  never  have  begon  it ;  sayenge  how  he  could  nat  amende  it, 
by  cause  of  glaunsing  of  his  fote  by  constraynt  of  the  great 
stroke  that  Syr  Johan  of  the  Castell-Morant  had  given  him." 
(Froissart,  vol.  I,  chap.  373.) 

Note  89,  p.  213 

See  several  charms  for  this  purpose  in  Reginald  Scott's 
Discovery  of  Witchcraft,  p.  273. 

372 


NOTES 

Tom  Ports  was  but  a  serving  man. 

But  yet  he  was  a  doctor  good; 

He  bound  his  handkerchief  on  the  wound. 

And  with  some  kinds  of  words  he  staunched  the  blood. 

Pieces  of  Ancient  Popular  Poetry,  London,  1791,  p.  131. 


Note  90,  p.  214 

Sir  Kenelm  Digby,  in  a  discourse  upon  the  cure  by  sympathy, 
pronounced  at  Montpelier  before  an  assembly  of  nobles  and 
learned  men,  translated  into  English  by  R.  White,  gentleman, 
and  published  in  1658,  gives  us  the  following  curious  surgical 
case : — 

'  Mr.  James  Howel  (well  known  in  France  for  his  public  works, 
and  particularly  for  his  Dendrologie,  translated  into  French  by 
Mons.  Baudouin)  coming  by  chance,  as  two  of  his  best  friends 
were  fighting  in  duel,  he  did  his  endeavour  to  part  them;  and, 
putting  himselfe  between  them,  seized,  with  his  left  hand,  upon 
the  hilt  of  the  sword  of  one  of  the  combatants,  while,  with  his 
right  hand,  he  laid  hold  of  the  blade  of  the  other.  They,  being 
transported  with  fury  one  against  the  other,  struggled  to  rid 
themselves  of  the  hinderance.their  friend  made,  that  they  should 
not  kill  one  another;  and  one  of  them  roughly  drawing  the  blade 
of  his  sword,  cuts  to  the  very  bone  the  nerves  and  muscles  of 
Mr.  Howel's  hand;  and  then  the  other  disengaged  his  hilts,  and 
gave  a  crosse  blow  on  his  adversarie's  head,  which  glanced  to- 
wards his  friend,  who  heaving  up  his  sore  hand  to  save  the  blow, 
he  was  wounded  on  the  back  of  his  hand  as  he  had  been  before 
within.  It  seems  some  strange  constellation  reigned  then  against 
him,  that  he  should  lose  so  much  bloud  by  parting  two  such 
dear  friends,  who,  had  they  been  themselves,  would  have  haz- 
arded both  their  lives  to  have  preserved  his;  but  this  involun- 
tary effusion  of  bloud  by  them,  prevented  that  which  they 
sholde  have  drawn  one  from  the  other.  For  they,  seeing  Mr, 
Howel's  face  besmeared  with  bloud,  by  heaving  up  his  wounded 
hand,  they  both  ran  to  embrace  him;  and,  having  searched  his 
hurts,  they  bound  up  his  hand  with  one  of  his  garters,  to  close  the 
veins  which  were  cut,  and  bled  abundantly.  They  brought  him 

373 


NOTES 

home,  and  sent  for  a  surgeon.  But  this  being  heard  at  court,  the 
King  sent  one  of  his  own  surgeons ;  for  his  Majesty  much  affected 
the  said  Mr.  Howel. 

'  It  was  my  chance  to  be  lodged  hard  by  him;  and  four  or  five 
days  after,  as  I  was  making  myself  ready,  he  came  to  my  house, 
and  prayed  me  to  view  his  wounds;  "for  I  understand,"  said  he, 
"that  you  have  extraordinary  remedies  on  such  occasions,  and 
my  surgeons  apprehend  some  fear  that  it  may  grow  to  a  gan- 
grene, and  so  the  hand  must  be  cut  off."  In  effect,  his  counte- 
nance discovered  that  he  was  in  much  pain,  which  he  said  was 
insupportable,  in  regard  of  the  extreme  inflammation.  I  told 
him  I  would  willingly  serve  him ;  but  if  haply  he  knew  the  manner 
how  I  would  cure  him,  without  touching  or  seeing  him,  it  may  be 
he  would  not  expose  himself  to  my  manner  of  curing,  because  he 
would  think  it,  peradventure,  either  ineffectual  or  superstitious. 
He  replied,  "the  wonderful  things  which  many  have  related 
unto  me  of  your  way  of  medicament,  makes  me  nothing  doubt 
at  all  of  its  efficacy;  and  all  that  I  have  to  say  unto  you  is  com- 
prehended in  the  Spanish  proverb,  Hagase  el  milagro  y  hagalo 
Mahoma  (Let  the  miracle  be  done,  though  Mahomet  do  it.)" 

'  I  asked  him  then  for  any  thing  that  had  the  blood  upon  it;  so 
he  presently  sent  for  his  garter,  wherewith  his  hand  was  first 
bound ;  and  as  I  called  for  a  bason  of  water,  as  if  I  would  wash 
my  hands,  I  took  a  handful  of  powder  of  vitriol,  which  I  had  in 
my  study,  and  presently  dissolved  it.  As  soon  as  the  bloudy 
garter  was  brought  me,  I  put  it  within  the  bason,  observing,  in 
the  interim,  what  Mr.  Howel  did,  who  stood  talking  with  a 
gentleman  in  a  corner  of  my  chamber,  not  regarding  at  all  what 
I  was  doing;  but  he  started  suddenly,  as  if  he  had  found  some 
strange  alteration  in  himself.  I  asked  him  what  he  ailed?  "I 
know  not  what  ailes  me ;  but  I  finde  that  I  feel  no  more  pain.  Me- 
thinks  that  a  pleasing  kinde  of  freshnesse,  as  it  were  a  wet  cold 
napkin,  did  spread  over  my  hand,  which  hath  taken  away  the 
inflammation  that  tormented  me  before."  I  replied,  "Since 
then  that  you  feel  already  so  good  effect  of  my  medicament,  I 
advise  you  to  cast  away  all  your  playsters;  only  keep  the  wound 

374 


NOTES 

clean,  and  in  a  moderate  temper  betwixt  heat  and  cold."  This 
was  presently  reported  to  the  Duke  of  Buckingham,  and  a  little 
after  to  the  King,  who  were  both  very  curious  to  know  the  cir- 
cumstance of  the  businesse,  which  was,  that  after  dinner  I  took 
the  garter  out  of  the  water,  and  put  it  to  dry  before  a  great  fire. 
It  was  scarce  dry,  but  Mr.  Howel's  servant  came  running,  that 
his  master  felt  as  much  burning  as  ever  he  had  done,  if  not  more; 
for  the  heat  was  such  as  if  his  hand  were  'twixt  coles  of  fire.  I 
answered,  although  that  had  happened  at  present,  yet  he  should 
find  ease  in  a  short  time;  for  I  knew  the  reason  of  his  new  acci- 
dent, and  would  provide  accordingly;  for  his  master  should  be 
free  from  that  inflammation,  it  may  be  before  he  could  possibly 
return  to  him ;  but  in  case  he  found  no  ease,  I  wished  him  to  come 
presently  back  again;  if  not,  he  might  forbear  coming.  There- 
upon he  went;  and  at  the  instant  I  did  put  again  the  garter  into 
the  water,  thereupon  he  found  his  master  without  any  pain  at 
all.  To  be  brief,  there  was  no  sense  of  pain  afterward ;  but  within 
five  or  six  dayes  the  wounds  were  cicatrized,  and  entirely  healed.' 
(Page  6.) 

The  King  (James  VI)  obtained  from  Sir  Kenelm  the  discovery 
of  his  secret,  which  he  pretended  had  been  taught  him  by  a 
Carmelite  friar,  who  had  learned  it  in  Armenia,  or  Persia.  Let 
not  the  age  of  animal  magnetism  and  metallic  tractors  smile  at 
the  sympathetic  powder  of  Sir  Kenelm  Digby.  Reginald  Scott 
mentions  the  same  mode  of  cure  in  these  terms:  'And  that 
which  is  more  strange  ....  they  can  remedie  anie  stranger  with 
that  verie  sword  wherewith  they  are  wounded.  Yea,  and  that 
which  is  beyond  all  admiration,  if  they  stroke  the  sword  upward 
with  their  fingers,  the  partie  shall  feele  no  pain;  whereas,  if  they 
draw  their  fingers  downwards,  thereupon  the  partie  wounded 
shall  feele  intolerable  pain.'  I  presume  that  the  success  ascribed 
to  the  sympathetic  mode  of  treatment  might  arise  from  the  pains 
bestowed  in  washing  the  wound,  and  excluding  the  air,  thus 
bringing  on  a  cure  by  the  first  intention.  It  is  introduced  by 
Dryden  in  the  Enchanted  Island,  a  (very  unnecessary)  alteration 
of  the  Tempest:  — 

375 


NOTES 

Ariel.  Anoint  the  sword  which  pierced  him  with  this 
Weapon-salve,  and  wrap  it  close  from  air, 
Till  I  have  time  to  visit  him  again.  —  Act  v,  Sc.  ii. 

Again,  in  Scene  iv,  Miranda  enters  with  Hippolito's  sword 
wrapt  up:  — 

Hip.  O  my  wound  pains  mel 

Mir.   I  am  come  to  ease  you.  [She  unwraps  the  Sword. 

Hip.  Alas,  I  feel  the  cold  air  come  to  me; 
My  wound  shoots  worse  than  ever. 

Mir.   Does  it  still  grieve  you?  [She  wipes  and  anoints  the  Sword. 

Hip.   Now,  methinks,  there  's  something  laid  just  upon  it. 

Mir.   Do  you  find  no  ease? 

Hip.  Yes,  yes ;  upon  the  sudden  all  this  pain 
Is  leaving  me.  Sweet  heaven,  how  I  am  easedl 

Note  91,  p.  216 

Bale,  beacon-fagot.  The  Border  beacons,  from  their  number 
and  position,  formed  a  sort  of  telegraphic  communication  with 
Edinburgh.  The  act  of  Parliament  1455,  c.  48,  directs  that  one 
bale  or  fagot  shall  be  warning  of  the  approach  of  the  English 
in  any  manner;  two  bales  that  they  are  coming  indeed;  four  bales, 
blazing  beside  each  other,  that  the  enemy  are  in  great  force. 
'The  same  taikenings  to  be  watched  and  maid  at  Eggerhope 
(Eggerstand)  Castell,  fra  they  se  the  fire  of  Hume,  that  they  fire 
right  swa.  And  in  like  manner  on  Sowtra  Edge,  sail  se  the  fire 
of  Eggerhope  Castell,  and  mak  taikening  in  like  manner;  And 
then  may  all  Louthaine  be  warned,  and  in  special  the  Castell  of 
Edinburgh;  and  their  four  fires  to  be  made  in  like  manner,  that 
they  in  Fife,  and  fra  Striveling  east,  and  the  east  part  of  Louthi- 
ane,  and  to  Dunbar,  all  may  se  them,  and  come  to  the  defence  of 
the  realme.'  These  beacons  (at  least  in  latter  times)  were  a  'long 
and  strong  tree  set  up,  with  a  long  iron  pole  across  the  head  of  it, 
and  an  iron  brander  fixed  on  a  stalk  in  the  middle  of  it,  for  hold- 
ing a  tar-barrel.'  (Stevenson's  History,  vol.  ii,  p.  701.) 

Note  92,  p.  216 

The  speed  with  which  the  Borderers  collected  great  bodies  of 
horse  may  be  judged  of  from  the  following  extract,  when  the 

376 


NOTES 

subject  of  the  rising  was  much  less  important  than  that  sup- 
posed in  the  romance.   It  is  taken  from  Carey's  Memoirs:  — 

'  Upon  the  death  of  the  old  Lord  Scroop,  the  Queen  gave  the 
west  wardenry  to  his  son,  that  had  married  my  sister.  He  having 
received  that  ofifice,  came  to  me  with  great  earnestness,  and 
desired  me  to  be  his  deputy,  offering  me  that  I  should  live  with 
him  in  his  house;  that  he  would  allow  me  half  a  dozen  men,  and 
as  many  horses,  to  be  kept  at  his  charge;  and  his  fee  being  looo 
merks  yearly,  he  would  part  it  with  me,  and  I  should  have  the 
half.  This  his  noble  offer  I  accepted  of,  and  went  with  him  to 
Carlisle;  where  I  was  no  sooner  come,  but  I  entered  into  my 
office.  We  had  a  stirring  time  of  it ;  and  few  days  past  over  my 
head  but  I  was  on  horseback,  either  to  prevent  mischief,  or  take 
malefactors,  and  to  bring  the  Border  in  better  quiet  than  it  had 
been  in  times  past.  One  memorable  thing  of  God's  mercy  shewed 
unto  me,  was  such  as  I  have  good  cause  still  to  remember  it. 

'I  had  private  intelligence  given  me,  that  there  were  two 
Scottishmen  that  had  killed  a  churchman  in  Scotland,  and  were 
by  one  of  the  Graemes  relieved.  This  Graeme  dwelt  within  five 
miles  of  Carlisle.  He  had  a  pretty  house,  and  close  by  it  a  strong 
tower,  for  his  own  defence  in  time  of  need.  —  About  two  o'clock 
in  the  morning,  I  took  horse  in  Carlisle,  and  not  above  twenty- 
five  in  my  company,  thinking  to  surprise  the  house  on  a  sudden. 
Before  I  could  surround  the  house,  the  two  Scots  were  gotten  in 
the  strong  tower,  and  I  could  see  a  boy  riding  from  the  house  as 
fast  as  his  horse  could  carry  him;  I  little  suspecting  what  it 
meant.  But  Thomas  Carleton  came  to  me  presently,  and  told 
me,  that  if  I  did  not  presently  prevent  it,  both  myself  and  all  my 
company  would  be  either  slain  or  taken  prisoners.  It  was  strange 
to  me  to  hear  this  language.  He  then  said  to  me,  "  Do  you  see 
that  boy  that  rideth  away  so  fast?  He  will  be  in  Scotland  within 
this  half  hour;  and  he  is  gone  to  let  them  know,  that  you  are  here, 
and  to  what  end  you  are  come,  and  the  small  number  you  have 
with  you;  and  that  if  they  will  make  haste,  on  a  sudden  they 
may  surprise  us,  and  do  with  us  what  they  please."  Hereupon 
we  took  advice  what  was  best  to  be  done.  We  sent  notice 


377 


NOTES 

presently  to  all  parts  to  raise  the  country,  and  to  come  to  us 
with  all  the  speed  they  could;  and  withall  we  sent  to  Carlisle  to 
raise  the  townsmen ;  for  without  foot  we  could  do  no  good  against 
the  tower.  There  we  staid  some  hours,  expecting  more  com- 
pany; and  within  short  time  after  the  country  came  in  on  all 
sides,  so  that  we  were  quickly  between  three  and  four  hundred 
horse;  and,  after  some  longer  stay,  the  foot  of  Carlisle  came  to  us, 
to  the  number  of  three  or  four  hundred  men;  whom  we  presently 
set  to  work,  to  get  to  the  top  of  the  tower,  and  to  uncover  the 
roof ;  and  then  some  twenty  of  them  to  fall  down  together,  and 
by  that  means  to  win  the  tower.  The  Scots,  seeing  their  pres- 
ent danger,  offered  to  parley,  and  yielded  themselves  to  my 
mercy.  They  had  no  sooner  opened  the  iron  gate,  and  yielded 
themselves  my  prisoners,  but  we  might  see  400  horse  within  a 
quarter  of  a  mile  coming  to  their  rescue,  and  to  surprise  me  and 
my  small  company;  but  of  a  sudden  they  stayed,  and  stood  at 
gaze.  Then  had  I  more  to  do  than  ever;  for  all  our  Borderers 
came  crying,  with  full  mouths,  "Sir,  give  us  leave  to  set  upon 
them ;  for  these  are  they  that  have  killed  our  fathers,  our  broth- 
ers, and  uncles,  and  our  cousins;  and  they  are  coming,  thinking 
to  surprise  you,  upon  weak  grass  nags,  such  as  they  could  get  on 
a  sudden;  and  God  hath  put  them  into  your  hands,  that  we  may 
take  revenge  of  them  for  much  blood  that  they  have  spilt  of 
ours."  I  desired  they  would  be  patient  a  while,  and  bethought 
myself,  if  I  should  give  them  their  will,  there  would  be  few  or 
none  of  the  Scots  that  would  escape  unkilled ;  (there  was  so  many 
deadly  feuds  among  them) ;  and  therefore  I  resolved  with  myself 
to  give  them  a  fair  answer,  but  not  to  give  them  their  desire.  So 
I  told  them,  that  if  I  were  not  there  myself,  they  might  then  do 
what  they  pleased  themselves;  but  being  present,  if  I  should  give 
them  leave,  the  blood  that  should  be  spilt  that  day  would  lie 
very  hard  upon  my  conscience.  And  therefore  I  desired  them, 
for  my  sake,  to  forbear;  and,  if  the  Scots  did  not  presently  make 
away  with  all  the  speed  they  could,  upon  my  sending  to  them, 
they  should  then  have  their  wills  to  do  what  they  pleased.  They 
were  ill  satisfied  with  my  answer,  but  durst  not  disobey.  I  sent 

378 


NOTES 

with  speed  to  the  Scots,  and  bade  them  pack  away  with  all  the 
speed  they  could;  for  if  they  stayed  the  messenger's  return,  they 
should  few  of  them  return  to  their  own  home.  They  made  no 
stay;  but  they  were  returned  homewards  before  the  messenger 
had  made  an  end  of  his  message.  Thus,  by  God's  mercy,  I  es- 
caped a  great  danger;  and,  by  my  means,  there  were  a  great 
many  men's  lives  saved  that  day.' 

Note  93,  p.  217 

The  cairns,  or  piles  of  loose  stones,  which  crown  the  summit 
of  most  of  our  Scottish  hills,  and  are  found  in  other  remarkable 
situations,  seem  usually,  though  not  universally,  to  have  been 
sepulchral  monuments.  Six  flat  stones  are  commonly  found  in 
the  centre,  forming  a  cavity  of  greater  or  smaller  dimensions,  in 
which  an  urn  is  often  placed.  The  author  is  possessed  of  one, 
discovered  beneath  an  immense  cairn  at  Roughlee,  in  Liddes- 
dale.  It  is  of  the  most  barbarous  construction;  the  middle  of  the 
substance  alone  having  been  subjected  to  the  fire,  over  which, 
when  hardened,  the  artist  had  laid  an  inner  and  outer  coat  of 
unbaked  clay,  etched  with  some  very  rude  ornaments;  his  skill 
apparently  being  inadequate  to  baking  the  vase,  when  com- 
pletely finished.  The  contents  were  bones  and  ashes,  and  a 
quantity  of  beads  made  of  coal.  This  seems  to  have  been  a 
barbarous  imitation  of  the  Roman  fashion  of  sepulture. 

Note  94,  p.  221 

The  morasses  were  the  usual  refuge  of  the  Border  herdsmen, 
on  the  approach  of  an  English  army.  (Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish 
Border,  vol.  I,  p.  393.)  Caves,  hewed  in  the  most  dangerous  and 
inaccessible  places,  also  afforded  an  occasional  retreat.  Such 
caverns  may  be  seen  in  the  precipitous  banks  of  the  Teviot  at 
Sunlaws,  upon  the  Ale  at  Ancram,  upon  the  Jed  at  Hundalee, 
and  in  many  other  places  upon  the  Border.  The  banks  of  the 
Eske,  at  Gorton  and  Hawthornden,  are  hollowed  into  similar 

379 


NOTES 

recesses.  But  even  these  dreary  dens  were  not  always  secure 
places  of  concealment.  '  In  the  way  as  we  came,  not  far  from  this 
place  (Long  Niddr>'),  George  Ferres,  a  gentleman  of  my  Lord 
Protector's  .  .  .  happened  upon  a  cave  in  the  grounde,  the  mouth 
whereof  was  so  worne  with  the  fresh  printe  of  steps,  that  he 
seemed  to  be  certayne  thear  wear  some  folke  within;  and  gone 
doune  to  trie,  he  was  readily  receyved  with  a  hakebut  or  two. 
He  left  them  not  yet,  till  he  had  known  wheyther  thei  wold  be 
content  to  yield  and  come  out;  which  they  fondly  refusing,  he 
went  to  my  lorde's  grace,  and  upon  utterance  of  the  thynge,  gat 
licence  to  deale  with  them  as  he  coulde;  and  so  returned  to  them, 
with  a  skore  or  two  of  pioners.  Three  ventes  had  their  cave, 
that  we  wear  ware  of,  whereof  he  first  stopt  up  on;  anoother  he 
fill'd  full  of  strawe,  and  set  it  a  fyer,  whereat  they  within  cast 
water  apace;  but  it  was  so  wel  maynteyned  without,  that  the 
fyer  prevayled,  and  thei  within  fayn  to  get  them  belyke  into 
anoother  parler.  Then  devysed  we  (for  I  hapt  to  be  with  him) 
to  stop  the  same  up,  whereby  we  should  eyther  smoother  them, 
or  fynd  out  their  ventes,  if  thei  hadde  any  moe:  as  this  was  done 
at  another  issue,  about  xii  score  of,  we  moughte  see  the  fume  of 
their  smoke  to  come  out:  the  which  continued  with  so  great  a 
force,  and  so  long  a  while,  that  we  could  not  but  thinke  they 
must  needes  get  them  out,  or  smoother  within:  and  forasmuch 
as  we  found  not  that  they  dyd  the  tone,  we  thought  it  for  cer- 
tain thei  wear  sure  of  the  toother.'  (Patten's  Account  of  Somer- 
set's Expedition  into  Scotland,  apud  Dalyell's  Fragments.) 

Note  95,  p.  221 

From  the  following  fragment  of  a  letter  from  the  Earl  of 
Northumberland  to  King  Henry  VIII,  preserved  among  the 
Cotton  MSS.  Calig.,  Book  vii,  179,  the  reader  may  estimate  the 
nature  of  the  dreadful  war  which  was  occasionally  waged  upon 
the  Borders,  sharpened  by  mutual  cruelties,  and  the  personal 
hatred  of  the  wardens,  or  leaders 

Some  Scottish  Barons,  says  the  Earl,  had  threatened  to  come 

380 


NOTES 

within  'three  miles  of  my  pore  house  of  Werkworth,  where  I  lye, 
and  gif  me  light  to  put  on  my  clothes  at  mydnight ;  and  alsoo  the 
said  Marke  Carr  said  there  opynly,  that,  seyng  they  had  a  gover- 
nor on  the  Marches  of  Scotland,  as  well  as  they  had  in  Ingland, 
he  shulde  kepe  your  highness  instructions,  gyffyn  unto  your 
garyson,  for  making  of  any  day-forrey;  for  he  and  his  friends 
wolde  burne  enough  on  the  nyglit,  lettyng  your  counsaill  here 
defyne  a  notable  acte  at  theyre  pleasures.  Upon  whiche,  in  your 
highnes  name,  I  comaundet  dewe  watche  to  be  kepte  on  your 
Marchies,  for  comyng  in  of  any  Scotts.  Neuertheles,  upon  Thurs- 
day at  night  last,  came  thyrty  light  horsemen  into  a  litil  village 
of  myne,  called  VVhitell,  having  not  past  sex  houses,  lying  toward 
Ryddisdaill,  upon  Shilbotell  More,  and  there  wold  have  fyred 
the  said  howses,  but  ther  was  no  fyre  to  get  there,  and  they 
forgate  to  brynge  any  withe  theyme;  and  took  a  wyf  being  great 
with  chylde,  in  the  said  towne,  and  said  to  hyr,  Wher  we  can 
not  gyve  the  lard  lyght,  yet  we  shall  doo  this  in  spyte  of  hym; 
and  gyve  her  iii  mortall  wounds  upon  the  heid,  and  another  in 
the  right  side,  with  a  dagger:  whereupon  the  said  wyf  is  deede, 
and  the  childe  in  her  bely  is  loste.  Beseeching  your  most  gra- 
cious highness  to  reduce  unto  your  gracious  memory  this  wylful 
and  shamefull  murder,  done  within  this  your  highnes  realme, 
notwithstanding  all  the  inhabitants  thereabout  rose  unto  the 
said  fray,  and  gave  warnynge  by  becons  into  the  countrey  afore 
theyme,  and  yet  the  Scottsmen  dyde  escape.  And  uppon  cer- 
teyne  knowledge  to  my  brother  Clyfforthe  and  me,  hrad  by  cred- 
ible persons  of  Scotland,  this  abomynable  act  not  only  to  be 
done  by  dyverse  of  the  Mershe,  but  also  the  afore  named  persons 
of  Tyvidaill,  and  consented  to,  as  by  appearance,  by  the  Erie 
of  Murey,  upon  Friday  at  night  last,  let  slyp  C  of  the  best  horse- 
men of  Glendaill,  with  a  parte  of  your  highnes  subjects  of  Ber- 
wyke,  together  with  George  Dowglas,  whoo  came  into  Ingland 
agayne,  in  the  dawning  of  the  day ;  but  afore  theyre  returne,  they 
dyd  mar  the  Earl  of  Murreis  provisions  at  Coldingham ;  for  they 
did  not  only  burne  the  said  town  of  Coldingham,  with  all  the 
corne  thereunto  belonging,  which  is  esteemed  wurthe  cii  marke 

381 


NOTES 

sterling;  but  alsoo  burned  twa  townes  nye  adjoining  thereunto, 
called  Branerdergest  and  the  Black  Hill,  and  toke  xxiii  persons, 
Ix  horse,  with  cc  hed  of  cataill,  which,  nowe  as  I  am  informed, 
hathe  not  only  been  a  staye  of  the  said  Erie  of  Murreis  not  com- 
ing to  the  Bordure  as  yet,  but  alsoo,  that  none  inlande  man  will 
adventure  theyr  self  uppon  the  Marches.  And  as  for  the  tax  that 
shulde  have  been  grauntyd  for  finding  of  the  said  iii  hundred 
men,  is  utterly  denyed.  Upon  which  the  King  of  Scotland  de- 
parted from  Edynburgh  to  Stirling,  and  as  yet  there  doth  re- 
mayn.  And  also  I,  by  the  advice  of  my  brother  Clyfforth,  have 
devysed,  that  within  this  iii  nyghts,  Godde  willing,  Kelsey,  in 
like  case,  shall  be  brent,  with  all  the  corn  in  the  said  town;  and 
then  they  shall  have  noo  place  to  lye  any  garyson  in  nygh  unto 
the  Borders.  And  as  I  shall  atteigne  further  knowledge,  I  shall 
not  faill  to  satisfye  your  highnes,  according  to  my  most  bounden 
dutie.  And  for  this  burnyng  of  Kelsey  is  devysed  to  be  done 
secretly,  by  Tyndaill  and  Ryddisdale.  And  thus  the  holy  Trynite 
and  *  *  *  your  most  royal  estate,  with  longlyf,  and  as  much  in- 
crease of  honour  as  your  most  noble  heart  can  desire.  At  Werk- 
worth  the  xxiid  day  of  October.'  (1522.) 

Note  96,  p.  221 

This  person  was,  in  my  younger  days,  the  theme  of  many  a 
fireside  tale.  He  was  a  retainer  of  the  Buccleuch  family,  and  held 
for  his  Border  service  a  small  tower  on  the  frontiers  of  Liddes- 
dale.  Watt  was,  by  profession,  a  sutor,  but,  by  inclination  and 
practice,  an  archer  and  warrior.  Upon  one  occasion,  the  Captain 
of  Bewcastle,  military  governor  of  that  wild  district  of  Cumber- 
land, is  said  to  have  made  an  incursion  into  Scotland,  in  which  he 
was  defeated  and  forced  to  fly.  Watt  Tinlinn  pursued  him  closely 
through  a  dangerous  morass;  the  captain,  however,  gained  the 
firm  ground;  and, seeing  Tinlinn  dismounted,  and  floundering 
in  the  bog,  used  these  words  of  insult:  'Sutor  Watt,  ye  cannot 
sew  your  boots;  the  heels  risp  [creak],  and  the  seams  rive  [tear]." 
*If  I  cannot  sew,'  retorted  Tinlinn,  discharging  a  shaft,  which 

3S2 


NOTES 

nailed  the  captain's  thigh  to  his  saddle,  'if  I  cannot  sew,  I  can 
yerk '  [twitch,  as  shoemakers  do  in  securing  the  stitches  of  their 
work]. 

Note  97,  p.  222 

There  is  an  old  rhyme,  which  thus  celebrates  the  places  in  Lid- 
desdale  remarkable  for  game :  — 

Billhope  braes  for  bucks  and  raes, 

And  Carit  haugh  for  swine, 
And  Tarras  for  the  good  bull-trout, 

If  he  be  ta'en  in  time. 

The  bucks  and  roes,  as  well  as  the  old  swine,  are  now  extinct; 
but  the  good  bull-trout  is  still  famous. 

Note  98,  p.  222 

As  the  Borderers  were  indifferent  about  the  furniture  of  their 
habitations,  so  much  exposed  to  be  burned  and  plundered,  they 
were  proportionately  anxious  to  display  splendour  in  decorating 
and  ornamenting  their  females.  (See  Lesley's  de  Moribus  Liniita- 
neorum). 

Note  99,  p.  223 

Lord  William  Howard,  third  son  of  Thomas,  Duke  of  Norfolk, 
succeeded  to  Naworth  Castle,  and  a  large  domain  annexed  to  it, 
in  right  of  his  wife  Elizabeth,  sister  of  George  Lord  Dacre,  who 
died  without  heirs  male,  in  the  nth  of  Queen  Elizabeth.  By  a 
poetical  anachronism,  he  is  introduced  into  the  romance  a  few 
years  earlier  than  he  actually  flourished.  He  was  warden  of  the 
Western  Marches;  and,  from  the  rigour  with  which  he  repressed 
the  Border  excesses,  the  name  of  Belted  Will  Howard  is  still 
famous  in  our  traditions.  In  the  castle  of  Naworth,  his  apart- 
ments, containing  a  bedroom,  oratory,  and  library,  are  still 
shown.  They  impress  us  with  an  unpleasing  idea  of  the  life  of  a 
lord  warden  of  the  Marches.  Three  or  four  strong  doors,  sepa- 
rating these  rooms  from  the  rest  of  the  castle,  indicate  the  appre- 
hensions of  treachery  from  his  garrison;  and  the  secret  winding 
passages,  through  which  he  could  privately  descend  into  the 

383 


NOTES 

guardroom,  or  even  into  the  dungeons,  imply  the  necessitj^  of 
no  small  degree  of  secret  superintendence  on  the  part  of  the 
governor.  As  the  ancient  books  and  furniture  have  remained  un- 
disturbed, the  venerable  appearance  of  these  apartments,  and 
the  armour  scattered  around  the  chamber,  almost  lead  us  to 
expect  the  arrival  of  the  warden  in  person.  Naworth  Castle  is 
situated  near  Brampton,  in  Cumberland.  Lord  William  Howard 
is  ancestor  of  the  Earls  of  Carlisle. 

Note  ioo,  p.  223 

The  well-known  name  of  Dacre  is  derived  from  the  exploits 
of  one  of  their  ancestors  at  the  siege  of  Acre,  or  Ptolemais,  under 
Richard  Coeur  de  Lion.  There  were  two  powerful  branches  of 
that  name.  The  first  family,  called  Lord  Dacres  of  the  South, 
held  the  castle  of  the  same  name,  and  are  ancestors  to  the  present 
Lord  Dacre.  The  other  family,  descended  from  the  same  stock, 
were  called  Lord  Dacres  of  the  North,  and  were  barons  of  Gils- 
land  and  Graystock.  A  chieftain  of  the  latter  branch  was  war- 
den of  the  West  Marches  during  the  reign  of  Edward  VL  He 
was  a  man  of  a  hot  and  obstinate  character,  as  appears  from  some 
particulars  of  Lord  Surrey's  letter  to  Henry  VHI,  giving  an  ac- 
count of  his  behaviour  at  the  siege  and  storm  of  Jedburgh.  It 
is  printed  in  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Border,  Appendix  to 
the  Introduction. 

Note  ioi,  p.  223 

In  the  wars  with  Scotland,  Henry  VIII  and  his  successors 
employed  numerous  bands  of  mercenary  troops.  At  the  battle  of 
Pinky,  there  were  in  the  English  army  six  hundred  hackbutters 
on  foot,  and  two  hundred  on  horseback,  composed  chiefly  of 
foreigners.  On  the  27th  of  September,  1549,  the  Duke  of  Somer- 
set, Lord  Protector,  writes  to  the  Lord  Dacre,  warden  of  the 
West  Marches:  'The  Almains,  in  number  two  thousand,  very 
valiant  soldiers,  shall  be  sent  to  you  shortly  from  Newcastle, 
together  with  Sir  Thomas  Holcroft,  and  with  the  force  of  your 

384 


NOTES 

wardenry,  (which  we  would  were  advanced  to  the  most  strength 
of  horsemen  that  might  be,)  shall  make  the  attempt  to  Lough- 
maben,  being  of  no  such  strength  but  that  it  may  be  skailed  with 
ladders,  whereof,  beforehand,  we  would  you  caused  secretly  some 
number  to  be  provided ;  or  else  undermined  with  the  pyke-axe, 
and  so  taken :  either  to  be  kept  for  the  King's  Majesty,  or  other- 
wise to  be  defaced,  and  taken  from  the  profits  of  the  enemy.  And 
in  like  manner  the  house  of  Carlaverock  to  be  used.'  Repeated 
mention  occurs  of  the  Almains,  in  the  subsequent  correspondence ; 
and  the  enterprise  seems  finally  to  have  been  abandoned,  from 
the  difficulty  of  providing  these  strangers  with  the  necessary 
'victuals  and  carriages  in  so  poor  a  country  as  Dumfries-shire.' 
{History  of  Cumberlatid,  vol.  I,  Introd.,  p.  Ixi.)  From  the  battle- 
pieces  of  the  ancient  Flemish  painters,  we  learn,  that  the  Low 
Country  and  German  soldiers  marched  to  an  assault  with  their 
right  knees  bared.  And  we  may  also  observe,  in  such  pictures, 
the  extravagance  to  which  they  carried  the  fashion  of  ornament- 
ing their  dress  with  knots  of  ribbon.  This  custom  of  the  Ger- 
mans is  alluded  to  in  the  Mirrour  for  Magistrates,  p.  121:  — 

Their  pleited  garments  therewith  well  accord, 
All  jagde  and  frounst,  with  divers  colours  deckt. 

Note  102,  p.  225 

Sir  John  Scott  of  Thirlestane  flourished  in  the  reign  of  James 
V,  and  possessed  the  estates  of  Thirlestane,  Gamescleuch,  etc., 
lying  upon  the  river  of  Ettrick,  and  extending  to  St.  Mary's  Loch, 
at  the  head  of  Yarrow.  It  appears,  that  when  James  had  assem- 
bled his  nobility,  and  their  feudal  followers,  at  Fala,  with  the  pur- 
pose of  invading  England,  and  was,  as  is  well  known,  disap- 
pointed by  the  obstinate  refusal  of  his  peers,  this  baron  alone 
declared  himself  ready  to  follow  the  King  wherever  he  should 
lead.  In  memory  of  his  fidelity,  James  granted  to  his  family  a 
charter  of  arms,  entitling  them  to  bear  a  border  of  fleur-de-luce, 
similar  to  the  tressure  in  the  royal  arms,  with  a  bundle  of  spears 
for  the  crest;  motto,  Ready,  aye  ready.  The  charter  itself  is 
printed  by  Nisbet;  but  his  work  being  scarce,  I  msert  the  follow- 

*e  38s 


NOTES 

ing  accurate  transcript  from  the  original,  in  the  possession  of  the 
Right  Honourable  Lord  Napier,  the  representative  of  John  of 
Thirlestaine. 

'James  Rex. 

'We  James,  by  the  grace  of  God,  King  of  Scottis,  considerand 
the  ffaith  and  guid  servis  of  of  of  ^  right  traist  friend  John  Scott 
of  Thirlestane,  quha  cummand  to  our  hoste  at  Soutra-edge, 
with  three  score  and  ten  launciers  on  horseback  of  his  friends  and 
followers,  and  beand  willing  to  gang  with  ws  into  England,  when 
all  our  nobles  and  others  refused,  he  was  ready  to  stake  at  all  our 
bidding;  ffor  the  quhilk  cause,  it  is  our  will,  and  we  doe  straitlie 
command  and  charg  our  lion  herauld  and  his  deputies  for  the 
time  beand,  to  give  and  to  graunt  to  the  said  John  Scott,  ane 
Border  of  ffleure  de  lises  about  his  coatte  of  armes,  sik  as  is  on  our 
royal  banner,  and  alsua  ane  bundell  of  launces  above  his  helmet, 
with  thir  words,  Readdy,  ay  Readdy,  that  he  and  all  his  after- 
cummers  may  bruik  the  samine  as  a  pledge  and  taiken  of  our 
guid  will  and  kyndnes  for  his  true  worthines;  and  thir  our  letters 
seen,  ye  nae  wayes  failzie  to  doe.  Given  at  Ffalla  Muire,  under 
our  hand  and  privy  cashet,  the  xxvii  day  of  July,  m  c  and  xxxii 
zeires.   By  the  King's  graces  speciall  ordinance. 

'Jo.  Arskine.' 
I    On  the  back  of  the  charter  is  written,  — 

'Edin.  14  January,  1713.  Registred,  conform  to  the  act  of 
parliament  made  anent  probative  writs,  per  M'Kaile,  pror.  and 
produced  by  Alexander  Borthwick,  servant  to  Sir  William  Scott 
of  Thiriestane.  M.  L.  J.' 

Note  103,  p.  225 

The  family  of  Harden  are  descended  from  a  younger  son  of  thi 
Laird  of  Buccleuch,  who  flourished  before  the  estate  of  Murdie> 
ston  was  acquired  by  the  marriage  of  one  of  those  chieftains  with 
the  heiress,  in  1296.    Hence  they  bear  the  cognizance  of  the 

*  Sic  in  original. 
386 


NOTES 

Scotts  upon  the  field;  whereas  those  of  the  Buccleuch  are  dis- 
posed upon  a  bend  dexter,  assumed  in  consequence  of  that 
marriage.  (See  Gladstaine  of  Whitelawe's  MSS.,  and  Scott  of 
Stokoe's  Pedigree,  Newcastle,  1783.) 

Walter  Scott  of  Harden,  who  flourished  during  the  reign  of 
Queen  Mary,  was  a  renowned  Border  freebooter,  concerning 
whom  tradition  has  preserved  a  variety  of  anecdotes,  some  of 
which  have  been  published  in  the  Minstrelsy  of  the  Scottish  Bor- 
der; others  in  Leyden's  Scenes  of  Infancy;  and  others,  more  lately, 
in  The  Mountain  Bard,  a  collection  of  Border  Ballads  by  Mr. 
James  Hogg.  The  bugle-horn,  said  to  have  been  used  by  this  for- 
midable leader,  is  preserved  by  his  descendant,  the  present  Mr. 
Scott  of  Harden.  His  castle  was  situated  upon  the  very  brink  of 
a  dark  and  precipitous  dell,  through  which  a  scanty  rivulet 
steals  to  meet  the  Borthwick.  In  the  recess  of  this  glen  he  is  said 
to  have  kept  his  spoil,  which  served  for  the  daily  maintenance 
of  his  retainers,  until  the  production  of  a  pair  of  clean  spurs,  in 
a  covered  dish,  announced  to  the  hungry  band,  that  they  must 
ride  for  a  supply  of  provisions.  He  was  married  to  Mary  Scott, 
daughter  of  Philip  Scott  of  Dryhope,  and  called  in  song  the 
Flower  of  Yarrow.  He  possessed  a  very  extensive  estate,  which 
was  divided  among  his  five  sons.  There  are  numerous  descend- 
ants of  this  old  marauding  Baron.  The  following  beautiful  pas- 
sage of  Leyden's  Scenes  of  Infancy,  is  founded  on  a  tradition  re- 
specting an  infant  captive,  whom  Walter  of  Harden  carried  off 
in  a  predatory  incursion,  and  who  is  said  to  have  become  the 
author  of  some  of  our  most  beautiful  pastoral  songs:  — 

Where  Bortha  hoarse,  that  loads  the  meads  with  sand, 
Rolls  her  red  tide  to  Teviot's  western  strand, 
Through  slaty  hills,  whose  sides  are  shagg'd  with  thorn. 
Where  springs,  in  scatter'd  tufts,  the  dark-green  corn, 
Towers  wood-girt  Harden,  far  above  the  vale. 
And  clouds  of  ravens  o'er  the  turrets  sail. 
A  hardy  race,  who  never  shrunk  from  war, 
The  Scott,  to  rival  realms  a  mighty  bar. 
Here  fixed  his  mountain-home;  —  a  wide  domain, 
And  rich  the  soil,  had  purple  heath  been  grain; 
But  what  the  niggard  ground  of  wealth  denied, 
From  fields  more  bless'd  bis  fearless  arm  supplied. 


NOTES 

The  waning  harvest-moon  shone  cold  and  bright; 
The  warder's  horn  was  heard  at  dead  of  night; 
And  as  the  massy  portals  wide  were  flung. 
With  stamping  hoofs  the  rocky  pavement  rung. 
What  fair,  half-veii'd,  leans  from  her  latticed  hall, 
Where  red  the  wavering  gleams  of  torchlight  fall? 
'T  is  Yarrow's  fairest  Flower,  who,  through  the  gloom. 
Looks,  wistful,  for  her  lover's  dancing  plume. 
Amid  the  piles  of  spoil,  that  strew'd  the  ground, 
Her  ear,  all  anxious,  caught  a  wailing  sound; 
With  trembling  haste  the  youthful  matron  flew. 
And  from  the  hurried  heaps  an  infant  drew. 

Scared  at  the  light,  his  little  hands  he  flung 
Around  her  neck,  and  to  her  bosom  clung; 
While  beauteous  Mary  soothed,  in  accents  mild. 
His  fluttering  soul,  and  clasp'd  her  foster  child. 
Of  milder  mood  the  gentle  captive  grew. 
Nor  loved  the  scenes  that  scared  his  infant  view; 
In  vales  remote,  from  camps  and  castles  far. 
He  shunn'd  the  fearful  shuddering  joy  of  war; 
Content  the  loves  of  simple  swains  to  sing, 
Or  wake  to  fame  the  harp's  heroic  string. 

His  are  the  strains,  whose  wandering  echoes  thrill 
The  shepherd,  lingering  on  the  twilight  hill, 
When  evening  brings  the  merry  folding  hours. 
And  sun-eyed  daisies  close  their  winking  flowers. 
He  lived  o'er  Yarrow's  Flower  to  shed  the  tear, 
To  strew  the  holly  leaves  o'er  Harden's  bier: 
But  none  was  found  above  the  minstrel's  tomb. 
Emblem  of  peace,  to  bid  the  daisy  bloom: 
He,  nameless  as  the  race  from  which  he  sprung. 
Saved  other  names,  and  left  his  own  unsung. 


Note  104,  p.  226 

In  this  and  the  following  stanzas,  some  account  is  given  of  the 
mode  in  which  the  property  in  the  valley  of  Esk  was  transferred 
from  the  Beattisons,  its  ancient  possessors,  to  the  name  of  Scott. 
It  is  needless  to  repeat  the  circumstances,  which  are  given  in  the 
poem  literally  as  they  have  been  preserved  by  tradition.  Lord 
MaxweJl,  in  the  latter  part  of  the  sixteenth  century,  took  upon 
himself  the  title  of  Earl  of  Morton.  The  descendants  of  Beatti- 
son  of  Woodkerrick,  who  aided  the  earl  to  escape  from  his  dis- 
obedient vassals,  continued  to  hold  these  lands  within  the  mem- 
ory of  man,  and  were  the  only  Beattisons  who  had  property  in 

3S8 


NOTES 

the  dale.  The  old  people  give  locality  to  the  story  by  showing  the 
Galliard's  Haugh,  the  place  where  Buccleuch's  men  were  con- 
cealed, etc. 

Note  105,  p.  229 

Bellenden  is  situated  near  the  head  of  Borthwick  Water,  and 
being  in  the  centre  of  the  possessions  of  the  Scotts,  was  fre- 
quently used  as  their  place  of  rendezvous  and  gathering  word. 

Note  106,  p.  233 

The  mercenary  adventurers,  whom,  in  1380,  the  Earl  of  Cam- 
bridge carried  to  the  assistance  of  the  King  of  Portugal  against 
the  Spaniards,  mutinied  for  want  of  regular  pay.  At  an  assembly 
of  their  leaders,  Sir  John  Soltier,  a  natural  son  of  Edward  the 
Black  Prince,  thus  addressed  them: ' "  I  counsayle,  let  us  be  alle 
of  one  alliance,  and  of  one  accorde,  and  let  us  among  ourselves 
reyse  up  the  baner  of  St.  George,  and  let  us  be  frendes  to  God, 
and  enemyes  to  alle  the  worlde ;  for  without  we  make  ourselfe  to 
be  feared,  we  gette  nothynge." 

'"By  my  fayth,"  quod  Sir  William  Helmon,  "ye  saye  right 
well,  and  so  let  us  do."  They  all  agreed  with  one  voyce,  and  so 
regarded  among  them  who  shulde  be  their  capitayne.  Then  they 
advysed  in  the  case  how  they  coude  nat  have  a  better  capitayne 
than  Sir  John  Soltier.  For  they  sulde  then  have  good  leyser  to 
do  yvel,  and  they  thought  he  was  more  metelyer  thereto  than 
any  other.  Then  they  raised  up  the  penon  of  St.  George,  and 
cried,  "A  Soltier!  a  Soltier!  the  valyaunt  bastarde!  frendes  to 
God,  and  enemies  to  all  the  worlde! " '  (Froissart,  vol.  i,  ch.  393.) 

Note  107,  p.  235 

A  glove  upon  a  lance  was  the  emblem  of  faith  among  the  an- 
cient Borderers,  who  were  wont,  when  any  one  broke  his  word,  to 
expose  this  emblem,  and  proclaim  him  a  faithless  villain  at  the 
first  Border  meeting.   This  ceremony  was  much  dreaded. 

389 


NOTES 

Note  io8,  p.  237 

Several  species  of  offences,  peculiar  to  the  Border,  constituted 
»vhat  was  called  march-treason.  Among  others,  was  the  crime  of 
riding,  or  causing  to  ride,  against  the  opposite  country  during 
the  time  of  truce.  Thus,  in  an  indenture  made  at  the  water  of 
Eske,  beside  Salom,  on  the  25th  day  of  March,  1334,  betwixt 
noble  lords  and  mighty.  Sirs  Henry  Percy,  Earl  of  Northumber- 
land, and  Archibald  Douglas,  Lord  of  Galloway,  a  truce  is 
agreed  upon  until  the  istday  of  July;  and  it  is  expressly  accorded, 
'Gif  ony  stellis  authir  on  the  ta  part,  or  on  the  tothyr,  that  he 
shall  be  hanget  or  heofdit;  and  gif  ony  company  stellis  any  gudes 
within  the  trieux  beforesayd,  ane  of  that  company  sail  be  hanget 
or  heofdit,  and  the  remanant  sail  restore  the  gudys  stolen  in  the 
dubble.'  (History  of  Westmoreland  and  Cumberland,  Introd., 
p.  xxxix.) 

Note  109,  p.  238. 

In  dubious  cases,  the  innocence  of  Border  criminals  was  occa- 
sionally referred  to  their  own  oath.  The  form  of  excusing  bills, 
or  indictments,  by  Border-oath,  ran  thus:  'You  shall  swear  by 
heaven  above  you,  hell  beneath  you,  by  your  part  of  Paradise, 
by  all  that  God  made  in  six  days  and  seven  nights,  and  by  God 
himself,  you  are  whart  out  sackless  of  art,  part,  way,  witting, 
ridd,  kenning,  having,  or  recetting  of  any  of  the  goods  and 
cattels  named  in  this  bill.   So  help  you  God.' 

Note  no,  p.  238 

The  dignity  of  knighthood,  according  to  the  original  institu- 
tion, had  this  peculiarity,  that  it  did  not  flow  from  the  monarch, 
but  could  be  conferred  by  one  who  himself  possessed  it,  upon  any 
squire  who,  after  due  probation,  was  found  to  merit  the  honour  of 
chivalry.  Latterly,  this  power  was  confined  to  generals,  who  were 
wont  to  create  knights  bannerets  after  or  before  an  engagement. 
Even  so  late  as  the  reign  of  Queen  Elizabeth,  Essex  highly  of- 

390 


NOTES 

fended  his  jealous  sovereign  by  the  indiscriminate  exertion  of 
this  privilege.  Among  others,  he  knighted  the  witty  Sir  John 
Harrington,  whose  favour  at  court  was  by  no  means  enhanced  by 
his  new  honours.  (See  the  Nug(B  Aiitiqtice,  edited  by  Mr.  Park.) 
But  probably  the  latest  instance  of  knighthood,  conferred  by  a 
subject,  was  in  the  case  of  Thomas  Ker,  knighted  by  the  Earl 
of  Huntley,  after  the  defeat  of  the  Earl  of  Argyle  in  the  battle 
of  Belrinnes.  The  fact  is  attested,  both  by  a  poetical  and  prose 
account  of  the  engagement,  contained  in  an  ancient  MS.  in  the 
Advocates'  Library,  and  edited  by  Mr.  Dalyell,  in  Godly  Sangs 
and  Ballets,  Edin.  1802. 

Note  hi,  p.  238 

The  battle  of  Ancram  Moor,  or  Penielheuch,  was  fought  a.d. 
1545'  The  English,  commanded  by  Sir  Ralph  Evers  and  Sir 
Brian  Latoun,  were  totally  routed,  and  both  their  leaders  slain 
in  the  action.  The  Scottish  army  was  commanded  by  Archibald 
Douglas,  Earl  of  Angus,  assisted  by  the  Laird  of  Buccleuch  and 
Norman  Lesley. 

Note  112,  p.  241 

This  was  the  cognizance  of  the  noble  house  of  Howard  in  all  its 
branches.  The  crest,  or  bearing,  of  a  warrior,  was  often  used  as 
a  nomme  de  guerre.  Thus  Richard  HI  acquired  his  well-known 
epithet,  The  Boar  of  York.  In  the  violent  satire  on  Cardinal 
Wolsey,  written  by  Roy,  commonly,  but  erroneously,  imputed 
to  Dr.  Bull,  the  Duke  of  Buckingham  is  called  the  Beautiful 
Swan,  and  the  Duke  of  Norfolk,  or  Earl  of  Surrey,  the  White 
Lion.  As  the  book  is  extremely  rare,  and  the  whole  passage  re- 
lates to  the  emblematical  interpretation  of  heraldry,  it  shall 
be  here  given  at  length. 

The  Description  of  the  Armts. 
Of  the  proud  Cardinal  this  is  the  shelde. 
Borne  up  betweene  two  angels  of  Sathan; 
The  six  bloudy  axes  in  a  bare  felde, 
Sheweth  the  cruelte  of  the  red  man, 
Which  hath  devoured  the  Beautiful  Swan, 
Mortal  enemy  unto  the  Whyte  Lion, 
Carter  of  Yorke,  the  vyle  butcher's  sonne. 


NOTES 

The  six  bulles  heddes  in  a  felde  blacke, 

Betokeneth  his  stordy  furiousness, 

Wherefore,  the  godly  lyght  to  put  abacke, 

He  bryngeth  in  his  dyvlish  darcness; 

The  bandog  in  the  niiddes  doth  expresse 

The  mastiff  curre  bred  in  Ypswich  towne, 

Gnawynge  with  hia  teth  a  kinges  crowne. 

The  cloubbe  signifieth  playne  his  tiranny, 

Covered  over  with  a  Cardinal's  hatt. 

Wherein  shall  be  fulfilled  the  prophecy, 

Aryse  up,  Jacke,  and  put  on  thy  salatt, 

For  the  tyme  is  come  of  bagge  and  walatt. 

The  temporall  chevalry  thus  thrown  doune, 

Wherefore,  prest,  take  hede,  and  beware  thy  crowne. 

There  were  two  copies  of  this  very  scarce  satire  in  the  library 
of  the  late  John,  Duke  of  Roxburghe.  See  an  account  of  it  also 
in  Sir  Egerton  Brydges'  curious  miscellany,  the  Censura  Literaria. 


Note  113,  p.  241 

It  may  easily  be  supposed,  that  trial  by  single  combat,  so 
peculiar  to  the  feudal  system,  was  common  on  the  Borders.  In 
1558,  the  well-known  Kirkaldy  of  Grange  fought  a  duel  with 
Ralph  Evre,  brother  to  the  then  Lord  Evre,  in  consequence  of  a 
dispute  about  a  prisoner  said  to  have  been  ill  treated  by  the  Lord 
Evre.  Pitscottie  gives  the  following  account  of  the  affair:  'The 
Lord  of  Ivers  his  brother  provoked  William  Kircaldy  of  Grange 
to  fight  with  him,  in  singular  combat,  on  horseback,  with  spears; 
who,  keeping  the  appointment,  accompanied  with  Monsieur 
d'Ossel,  lieutenant  to  the  French  King,  and  the  garrison  of  Hay- 
mouth,  and  Mr.  Ivers,  accompanied  with  the  governor  and  gar- 
rison of  Berwick,  it  was  discharged,  under  the  pain  of  treason, 
that  any  man  should  come  near  the  champions  within  a  flight- 
shot, except  one  man  for  either  of  them,  to  bear  their  spears,  two 
trumpets,  and  two  lords  to  be  judges.  When  they  were  in  readi- 
ness, the  trumpets  sounded,  the  heraulds  cried,  and  the  judges 
let  them  go.  They  then  encountered  very  fiercely;  but  Grange 
struck  his  spear  through  his  adversary's  shoulder,  and  bare  him 
off  his  horse,  being  sore  wounded:  But  whether  he  died,  or  not, 
it  is  uncertain.'   (Page  202.) 

392 


NOTES 

The  following  indenture  will  show  at  how  late  a  period  the 
trial  by  combat  was  resorted  to  on  the  Border,  as  a  proof  of  guilt 
or  innocence:  — 

*  It  is  agreed  between  Thomas  Musgrave  and  Lancelot  Carle- 
ton,  for  the  true  trial  of  such  controversies  as  are  betwixt  them, 
to  have  it  openly  tried  by  way  of  combat,  before  God  and  the 
face  of  the  world,  to  try  it  in  Canonbyholme,  before  England  and 
Scotland,  upon  Thursday  in  Easter-week,  being  the  eighth  day 
of  April  next  ensuing,  a.d.  1602,  betwixt  nine  of  the  clock,  and 
one  of  the  same  day,  to  fight  on  foot,  to  be  armed  with  jack, 
steel  cap,  plaite  sleeves,  plaite  breaches,  plaite  sockes,  two  bas- 
leard  swords,  the  blades  to  be  one  yard  and  half  a  quarter  in 
length,  two  Scotch  daggers,  or  dorks,  at  their  girdles,  and  either 
of  them  to  provide  armour  and  weapons  for  themselves,  accord- 
ing to  this  indenture.  Two  gentlemen  to  be  appointed,  on  the 
field,  to  view  both  the  parties,  to  see  that  they  both  be  equal  in 
arms  and  weapons,  according  to  this  indenture;  and  being  so 
viewed  by  the  gentlemen,  the  gentlemen  to  ride  to  the  rest  of 
the  company,  and  to  leave  them  but  two  boys,  viewed  by  the 
gentlemen,  to  be  under  sixteen  years  of  age,  to  hold  their  horses. 
In  testimony  of  this  our  agreement,  we  have  both  set  our  hands 
to  this  indenture,  of  intent  all  matters  shall  be  made  so  plain,  as 
there  shall  be  no  question  to  stick  upon  that  day.  Which  in- 
denture, as  a  witness,  shall  be  delivered  to  two  gentlemen.  And 
for  that  it  is  convenient  the  world  should  be  privy  to  every  par- 
ticular of  the  grounds  of  the  quarrel,  we  have  agreed  to  set  it 
down  in  this  indenture  betwixt  us,  that,  knowing  the  quarrel, 
their  eyes  may  be  witness  of  the  trial. 

THE  GROUNDS  OF  THE  QUARREL 

'i.  Lancelot  Carleton  did  charge  Thomas  Musgrave  before 
the  Lords  of  her  Majesty's  Privy  Council,  that  Lancelot  Carle- 
ton  was  told  by  a  gentleman,  one  of  her  Majesty's  sworn 
servants,  that  Thomas  Musgrave  had  offered  to  deliver  her 
Majesty's  Castle  of  Bewcastle  to  the  King  of  Scots;  and  to 

393 


NOTES 

witness  the  same,  Lancelot  Carleton   had  a  letter  under  the 
gentleman's  own  hand  for  his  discharge. 

'2.  He  chargeth  him,  that  whereas  her  Majesty  doth  yearly 
bestow  a  great  fee  upon  him,  as  captain  of  Bewcastle,  to  aid  and 
defend  her  Majesty's  subjects  therein:  Thomas  Musgrave  hath 
neglected  his  duty,  for  that  her  Majesty's  Castle  of  Bewcastle 
was  by  him  made  a  den  of  thieves,  and  an  harbour  and  receipt 
for  murderers,  felons,  and  all  sorts  of  misdemeanors.  The  pre- 
cedent was  Quintin  Whitehead  and  Runion  Blackburne. 

'3.  He  chargeth  him,  that  his  ofhce  of  Bewcastle  is  open  for 
the  Scotch  to  ride  in  and  through,  and  small  resistance  made  by 
him  to  the  contrary. 

'Thomas  Musgrave  doth  deny  all  this  charge;  and  saith, 
that  he  will  prove  that  Lancelot  Carleton  doth  falsely  bely  him, 
and  will  prove  the  same  by  way  of  combat,  according  to  this 
indenture.  Lancelot  Carleton  hath  entertained  the  challenge; 
and  so,  by  God's  permission,  will  prove  it  true  as  before,  and 
hath  set  his  hand  to  the  same. 

(Signed)  'Thomas  Musgrave. 

'Lancelot  Carleton.' 

Note  114,  p.  244 

The  person  here  alluded  to  is  one  of  our  ancient  Border  min- 
strels, called  Rattling  Roaring  Willie.  This  soubriquet  was  prob- 
ably derived  from  his  bullying  disposition;  being,  it  would  seem, 
such  a  roaring  boy,  as  is  frequently  mentioned  in  old  plays.  While 
drinking  at  Newmill,  upon  Teviot,  about  five  miles  above  Ha- 
wick, Willie  chanced  to  quarrel  with  one  of  his  own  profession, 
who  was  usually  distinguished  by  the  odd  name  of  Sweet  Milk, 
from  a  place  on  Rule  Water  so  called.  They  retired  to  a  meadow 
on  the  opposite  side  of  the  Teviot,  to  decide  the  contest  with 
their  swords,  and  Sweet  Milk  was  killed  on  the  spot.  A  thorn- 
tree  marks  the  scene  of  the  murder,  which  is  still  called  Sweet 
Milk  Thorn.  Willie  was  taken  and  executed  at  Jedburgh,  be- 
queathing his  name  to  the  beautiful  Scotch  air,  called  '  Rattling 
Roaring  Willie.'  Ramsay,  who  set  no  value  on  traditionary  lore, 

394 


NOTES 

published  a  few  verses  of  this  song  in  the  Tea  Table  Miscellany, 
carefully  suppressing  all  which  had  any  connexion  with  the  his- 
tory of  the  author  and  origin  of  the  piece.  In  this  case,  however, 
honest  Allan  is  in  some  degree  justified,  by  the  extreme  worth- 
lessness  of  the  poetry.  A  verse  or  two  may  be  taken,  as  illustra- 
tive of  the  history  of  Roaring  Willie,  alluded  to  in  the  text:  — 

Now  Willie's  gane  to  Jeddart, 

And  he 's  for  the  rood-day;  > 
But  Stobs  and  young  Falnash  » 

They  follow 'd  him  a'  the  way; 
They  follow'd  him  a'  the  way, 

They  sought  him  up  and  down, 
In  the  links  of  Ousenam  water 

They  fand  him  sleeping  sound. 

Stobs  light  aff  his  horse, 

And  never  a  word  he  spak, 
Till  he  tied  Willie's  hands 

Fu'  fast  behind  his  back; 
Fu'  fast  behind  his  back. 

And  down  beneath  his  knee. 
And  drink  will  be  dear  to  Willie, 

When  sweet  milk  '  gars  him  die. 

Ah  wae  light  on  ye,  Stobs! 

An  ill  death  mot  ye  die; 
Ye  're  the  first  and  foremost  man 

That  e'er  laid  hands  on  me; 
That  e'er  laid  hands  on  me. 

And  took  my  mare  me  frae: 
Wae  to  you.  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot! 

Ye  are  my  mortal  fael 

The  lasses  of  Ousenam  water 

Are  rugging  and  riving  their  hair, 
And  a'  for  the  sake  of  Willie, 

His  beauty  was  so  fair: 
His  beauty  was  so  fair. 

And  comely  for  to  see. 
And  drink  will  be  dear  to  Willie, 

When  sweet  milk  gars  him  die. 

Note  115,  p.  244 

The  title  to  the  most  ancient  collection  of  Border  regulations 
runs  thus:  'Be  it  remembered,  that,  on  the  i8th  day  of  De- 

•  The  day  of  the  Rood-fair  at  Jedburgh. 

»  Sir  Gilbert  Elliot  of  Stobs,  and  Scott  of  Falnash. 

•  A  wretched  pun  on  his  antagonist's  name. 

395 


NOTES 

cember,  1468,  Earl  William  Douglas  assembled  the  whole  lords, 
freeholders,  and  eldest  Borderers,  that  best  knowledge  had,  at  the 
college  of  Linclouden;  and  there  he  caused  these  lords  and  Bor- 
derers bodily  to  be  sworn,  the  Holy  Gospel  touched,  that  they, 
justly  and  truly,  after  their  cunning,  should  decrete,  decern,  de- 
liver, and  put  in  order  and  writing,  the  statutes,  ordinances,  and 
uses  of  marche,  that  were  ordained  in  Black  Archibald  of  Doug- 
las's days,  and  Archibald  his  son's  days,  in  time  of  warfare;  and 
they  came  again  to  him  advisedly  with  these  statutes  and  ordi- 
nances, which  were  in  time  of  warfare  before.  The  said  Earl 
William,  SQ^mg  the  statutes  in  writing  decreed  and  delivered  by 
the  said  lords  and  Borderers,  thought  them  right  speedful  and 
profitable  to  the  Borders;  the  which  statutes,  ordinances,  and 
points  of  warfare,  he  took,  and  the  whole  lords  and  Borderers  he 
caused  bodily  to  be  sworn,  that  they  should  maintain  and  supply 
him  at  their  goodly  power,  to  do  the  law  upon  those  that  should 
break  the  statutes  underwritten.  Also,  the  said  Earl  William, 
and  lords,  and  eldest  Borderers,  made  certain  points  to  be  trea- 
son in  time  of  warfare  to  be  used,  which  were  no  treason  before 
his  time,  but  to  be  treason  in  his  time,  and  in  all  time  coming.' 

Note  116,  p.  249 

The  chief  of  this  potent  race  of  heroes,  about  the  date  of  the 
poem,  was  Archibald  Douglas,  seventh  Earl  of  Angus,  a  man  of 
great  courage  and  activity.  The  Bloody  Heart  was  the  well- 
known  cognizance  of  the  House  of  Douglas,  assumed  from  the 
time  of  good  Lord  James,  to  whose  care  Robert  Bruce  com- 
mitted his  heart,  to  be  carried  to  the  Holy  Land. 

Note  117,  p.  249 

Sir  David  Hume,  of  VVedderburn,  who  was  slain  in  the  fatal 
battle  of  Flodden,  left  seven  sons  by  his  wife  Isabel.  They  were 
called  the  Seven  Spears  of  VVedderburn. 


396 


NOTES 

Note  ii8,  p.  249 

At  the  battle  of  Beauge,  in  France,  Thomas,  Duke  of  Clarence, 
brother  to  Henry  V,  was  unhorsed  by  Sir  John  Swinton  of 
Swinton,  who  distinguished  him  by  a  coronet  set  with  pre- 
cious stones,  which  he  wore  around  his  helmet.  The  family  of 
Swinton  is  one  of  the  most  ancient  in  Scotland,  and  produced 
many  celebrated  warriors. 

Note  119,  p.  251 

The  Earls  of  Home,  as  descendants  of  the  Dunbars,  ancient 
Earls  of  March,  carried  a  lion  rampant,  argent;  but,  as  a  differ- 
ence, changed  the  color  of  the  shield  from  gules  to  vert,  in  allu- 
sion to  Greenlaw,  their  ancient  possession.  The  slogan,  or  war- 
cry,  of  this  powerful  family,  was,  'A  Home!  a  Home!'  It  was 
anciently  placed  in  an  escrol  above  the  crest.  The  helmet  is 
armed  with  a  lion's  head  erased  gules,  with  a  cap  of  state  gules, 
turned  up  ermine.  The  Hepburns,  a  powerful  family  in  East  Lo- 
thian, were  usually  in  close  alliance  with  the  Homes.  The  chief 
of  this  clan  was  Hepburn,  Lord  of  Hailes,  a  family  which  ter- 
minated in  the  too  famous  Earl  of  Bothwell. 

Note  120,  p.  251 

The  football  was  anciently  a  very  favourite  sport  all  through 
Scotland,  but  especially  upon  the  Borders.  Sir  John  Carmichael 
of  Carmichael,  Warden  of  the  Middle  Marches,  was  killed  in 
1600  by  a  band  of  the  Armstrongs,  returning  from  a  football 
match.  Sir  Robert  Carey,  in  his  Memoirs,  mentions  a  great 
meeting,  appointed  by  the  Scotch  riders  to  be  held  at  Kelso  for 
the  purpose  of  playing  at  football,  but  which  terminated  in  an 
incursion  upon  England. 

Note  121,  p.  252 

Notwithstanding  the  constant  wars  upon  the  Borders,  and 
the  occasional  cruelties  which  marked  the  mutual  inroads,  the 

397 


NOTES 

inhabitants  on  either  side  do  not  appear  to  have  regarded  each 
other  with  that  violent  and  personal  animosity  which  might  have 
been  expected.  On  the  contrary,  like  the  outposts  of  hostile  ar- 
mies, they  often  carried  on  something  resembling  friendly  inter- 
course, even  in  the  middle  of  hostilities;  and  it  is  evident,  from 
various  ordinances  against  trade  and  intermarriages,  between 
English  and  Scottish  Borderers,  that  the  governments  of  both 
countries  were  jealous  of  their  cherishing  too  intimate  a  con- 
nexion. Froissart  says  of  both  nations,  that '  Englyshmen  on  the 
one  party,  and  Scottes  on  the  other  party,  are  good  men  of  warre ; 
for  when  they  meet,  there  is  a  harde  fight  without  sparynge. 
There  is  no  hoo  [truce]  between  them,  as  long  as  spears,  swords, 
axes,  or  daggers,  will  endure,  but  lay  on  eche  upon  uther;  and 
whan  they  be  well  beaten,  and  that  the  one  party  hath  obtained 
the  victory,  they  then  gloryfye  so  in  theyre  dedes  of  armies,  and 
are  so  joyfull,  that  such  as  be  taken  they  shall  be  ransomed,  or 
that  they  go  out  of  the  felde ;  so  that  shortly  eche  of  them  is  so 
content  with  other,  that,  at  their  departynge,  curtyslye  they  will 
say,  God  thank  you.'  (Berners's  Froissart,  vol.  li,  p.  153.)  The 
Border  meetings  of  truce,  which,  although  places  of  merchan- 
dise and  merriment,  often  witnessed  the  most  bloody  scenes, 
may  serve  to  illustrate  the  description  in  the  text.  They  are 
vividly  portrayed  in  the  old  ballad  of  the  Reidsquair.  Both  par- 
ties came  armed  to  a  meeting  of  the  wardens,  yet  they  intermixed 
fearlessly  and  peaceably  with  each  other  in  mutual  sports  and 
familiar  intercourse,  until  a  casual  fray  arose :  — 

Then  was  there  nought  but  bow  and  spear, 
And  every  man  pulled  out  a  brand. 

In  the  twenty-ninth  stanza  of  this  canto,  there  is  an  attempt 
to  express  some  of  the  mixed  feelings  with  which  the  Borderers 
on  each  side  were  led  to  regard  their  neighbours. 

Note  122,  p.  252 

Patten  remarks,  with  bitter  censure,  the  disorderly  conduct  of 
the  English  Borderers,  who  attended  the  Protector  Somerset  on 

398 


NOTES 

his  expedition  against  Scotland.  'As  we  wear  then  a  setling, 
and  the  tents  a  setting  up,  among  all  things  els  commendable  in 
our  hole  journey,  one  thing  seemed  to  me  an  intollerable  disor- 
der and  abuse:  that  whereas  always,  both  in  all  tounes  of  war, 
and  in  all  campes  of  armies,  quietness  and  stilnes,  without  nois, 
is,  principally  in  the  night,  after  the  watch  is  set,  observed,  (I  nede 
not  reason  why,)  our  northern  prikers,  the  Borderers,  notwith- 
standyng,  with  great  enormitie,  (as  thought  me,)  and  not  unlike 
(to  be  playn)  unto  a  masteries  hounde  howlyng  in  a  hie  way  when 
he  hath  lost  him  he  waited  upon,  sum  hoopynge,  sum  whistlyng, 
and  most  with  crying,  A  Berwyke,  a  Berwyke!  A  Fenwyke,  a 
Fenwyke!  A  Bulmer,  a  Bulmer!  or  so  ootherwise  as  theyr  cap- 
tains names  wear,  never  lin'de  these  troublous  and  dangerous 
noyses  all  the  nyghte  longe.  They  said,  they  did  it  to  find  their 
captain  and  fellows;  but  if  the  souldiers  of  our  oother  countreys 
and  sheres  had  used  the  same  maner,  in  that  case  we  should  have 
oft  tymes  had  the  state  of  our  campe  more  like  the  outrage  of  a 
dissolute  huntyng,  than  the  quiet  of  a  well  ordered  armye.  It  is  a 
feat  of  war,  in  mine  opinion,  that  might  right  well  be  left.  I  could 
reherse  causes  (but  yf  I  take  it,  they  are  better  unspoken  than 
uttred,  unless  the  faut  wear  sure  to  be  amended)  that  might  shew 
thei  move  alweis  more  peral  to  our  armie,  but  in  their  one  nyght's 
so  doynge,  than  they  shew  good  service  (as  some  sey)  in  a  hoole 
vyage.'  {Apud  Dalzell's  Fragments,  p.  75.) 

Note  123,  p.  268 

The  pursuit  of  Border  marauders  was  followed  by  the  injured 
party  and  his  friends  with  blood-hounds  and  bugle-horns,  and 
was  called  the  hot-trod.  He  was  entitled,  if  his  dog  could  trace  the 
scent,  to  follow  the  invaders  into  the  opposite  kingdom ;  a  privi- 
lege which  often  occasioned  bloodshed.  In  addition  to  what  ha^ 
been  said  of  the  blood-hound,  I  may  add,  that  the  breed  was 
kept  up  by  the  Buccleuch  family  on  their  Border  estates  till 
within  the  i8th  century.  A  person  was  alive  in  the  memory  of 
man,  who  remembered  a  blood-hound  being  kept  at  Eldinhope, 

399 


NOTES 

in  Ettrick  Forest,  for  whose  maintenance  the  tenant  had  an 
allowance  of  meal.  At  that  time  the  sheep  were  always  watched 
at  night.  Upon  one  occasion,  when  the  duty  had  fallen  on  the 
narrator,  then  a  lad,  he  became  exhausted  with  fatigue,  and  fell 
asleep  upon  a  bank,  near  sun-rising.  Suddenly  he  was  awakened 
by  the  tread  of  horses,  and  saw  five  men,  well  mounted  and  armed, 
ride  briskly  over  the  edge  of  the  hill.  They  stopped  and  looked 
at  the  flock;  but  the  day  was  too  far  broken  to  admit  the  chance 
of  their  carrying  any  of  them  off.  One  of  them,  in  spite,  leaped 
from  his  horse,  and  coming  to  the  shepherd,  seized  him  by  the 
belt  he  wore  round  his  waist;  and,  setting  his  foot  upon  his  body, 
pulled  it  till  it  broke,  and  carried  it  away  with  him.  They  rode 
off  at  the  gallop;  and,  the  shepherd  giving  the  alarm,  the  blood- 
hound was  turned  loose,  and  the  people  in  the  neighbourhood 
alarmed.  The  marauders,  however,  escaped,  notwithstanding 
a  sharp  pursuit.  This  circumstance  serves  to  show  how  very 
long  the  license  of  the  Borderers  continued  in  some  degree  to 
manifest  itself. 

Note  124,  p.  273 

Popular  belief ,  though  contrary  to  the  doctrines  of  the  Church, 
made  a  favourable  distinction  betwixt  magicians,  and  necro- 
mancers, or  wizards;  the  former  were  supposed  to  command 
the  evil  spirits,  and  the  latter  to  serve,  or  at  least  to  be  in  league 
and  compact  with,  those  enemies  of  mankind.  The  arts  of  sub- 
jecting the  demons  were  manifold;  sometimes  the  fiends  were 
actually  swindled  by  the  magicians,  as  in  the  case  of  the  bargain 
betwixt  one  of  their  number  and  the  poet  Virgil.  The  classical 
reader  will  doubtless  be  curious  to  peruse  this  anecdote:  — 

'Virgilius  was  at  scole  at  Tolenton,  where  he  stodyed  dyly- 
gently,  for  he  was  of  great  understandynge.  Upon  a  tyme,  the 
scolers  had  lycense  to  go  to  play  and  sporte  them  in  the  fyldes, 
after  the  usance  of  the  ole  tyme.  And  there  was  also  Virgilius 
therbye,  also  walkynge  among  the  hylles  all  about.  It  fortuned  he 
spyed  a  great  hole  in  the  syde  of  a  great  hyll,  wherein  he  went  so 
depe,  that  he  culd  not  see  no  more  lyght ;  and  than  he  went  a  ly  tell 

400 


I 


NOTES 

farther  therein,  and  than  he  saw  some  lyght  agayne,  and  than 
he  went  fourth  streyghte,  and  within  a  lytell  wyle  after  he  harde 
a  voyce  that  called,  "Virgilius!  Virgilius!"  and  looked  aboute, 
and  he  colde  nat  see  no  body.  Then  sayd  he  (i.e.,  the  voice),  "  Vir- 
gilius, see  ye  not  the  lytyll  borde  lying  bysyde  you  there  marked 
with  that  word?"  Than  answered  Virgilius,  "I  see  that  borde 
wellanough."  Thevoycesaid,  "Dooawaye  that  borde, and  lette 
me  out  there  atte."  Than  answered  Virgilius  to  the  voice  that 
was  under  the  lytell  borde,  and  sayd,  "Who  art  thou  that  callest 
me  so?  "  Than  answered  the  devyll,  "  I  am  a  devyll  conjured  out 
of  the  bodye  of  a  certeyne  man,  and  banysshed  here  tyll  the  day 
of  judgmend,  without  that  I  be  delyvered  by  the  handes  of  men. 
Thus,  Virgilius,  I  pray  the,  delyver  me  out  of  this  payn,  and  I 
shall  shewe  unto  the  many  bokes  of  negromancye,  and  how  thou 
shalt  come  by  it  lyghtly,  and  know  the  practyse  therein,  that 
no  man  in  the  scyence  of  negromancye  shall  passe  the.  And  more- 
over, I  shall  shewe  and  enforme  the  so,  that  thou  shalt  have  alle 
thy  desyre,  whereby  methinke  it  is  a  great  gyfte  for  so  lytyll  a 
doyng.  For  ye  may  also  thus  all  your  power  frendys  helpe,  and 
make  ryche  your  enemyes."  Thorough  that  great  promyse  was 
Virgilius  tempted;  he  badde  the  fynd  show  the  bokes  to  hym, 
that  he  might  have  and  occupy  them  at  his  wyll ;  and  so  the  fynde 
shewed  him.  And  than  Virgilius  pulled  open  a  borde,  and  there 
was  a  lytell  hole,  and  thereat  wrang  the  devyll  out  like  a  yell, 
and  cam  and  stode  before  Virgilius  lyke  a  bygge  man ;  whereof 
Virgilius  was  astonied  and  marveyled  greatly  thereof,  that  so 
great  a  man  myght  come  out  at  so  lytyll  a  hole.  Than  sayd  Vir- 
gilius, "Shulde  ye  well  passe  into  the  hole  that  ye  cam  out  of?" 
"Yea,  I  shall  well,"  said  the  devyl.  "  I  holde  the  best  plegge  that 
I  have,  that  ye  shall  not  do  it."  "Well,"  sayd  the  devyll,  "there- 
to I  consent."  And  then  the  devyll  wrange  himselfe  into  the 
lytyll  hole  ageyne ;  and  as  he  was  therein,  Virgilius  ky vered  the 
hole  ageyne  with  the  borde  close,  and  so  was  the  devyll  begyled, 
and  myght  nat  there  come  out  agen,  but  abydeth  sh^'tte  styll 
therein.  Than  called  the  devyll  dredefully  to  Virgilius,  and  said, 
"What  have  ye  done,  Virgilius?"  Virgilius  answered,  "Abyde 

4Q  401 


NOTES 

there  styll  to  your  day  appoynted  ";  and  fro  thens  forth  abydeth 
he  there.  And  so  Virgilius  became  very  connynge  in  the  prac- 
tyse  of  the  black  scyence.' 

This  story  may  remind  the  reader  of  the  Arabian  tale  of  the 
Fisherman  and  the  imprisoned  Genie;  and  it  is  more  than  prob- 
able, that  many  of  the  marvels  narrated  in  the  life  of  Virgil, 
are  of  Oriental  extraction.  Among  such  I  am  disposed  to  reckon 
the  following  whimsical  account  of  the  foundation  of  Naples, 
containing  a  curious  theory  concerning  the  origin  of  the  earth- 
quakes with  which  it  is  afflicted.  Virgil,  who  was  a  person  of 
gallantry,  had,  it  seems,  carried  oflf  the  daughter  of  a  certain 
Soldan,  and  was  anxious  to  secure  his  prize. 

'Than  he  thought  in  his  mynde  how  he  myghte  marye  hyr, 
and  thought  in  his  mynde  to  founde  in  the  middes  of  the  see  a 
fayer  towne,  with  great  landes  belongynge  to  it;  and  so  he  did 
by  his  cunnynge,  and  called  it  Napells.  And  the  fandacyon  of  it 
was  of  egges,  and  in  that  town  of  Napells  he  made  a  tower  with 
iiii  corners,  and  in  the  toppe  he  set  an  apell  upon  an  yron  yarde, 
and  no  man  culde  pull  away  that  apell  without  he  brake  it;  and 
thoroughe  thatyrensethea  bolte,  and  in  that  bolte  set  he  a  egge. 
And  he  henge  the  apell  by  the  stauke  upon  a  cheyne,  and  so 
hangeth  it  still.  And  when  the  egge  styrreth,  so  shulde  the  towne 
of  Napells  quake;  and  whan  the  egge  brake,  than  shulde  the  town 
sinke.  Whan  he  had  made  an  ende,  he  lette  call  it  Napells.'  This 
appears  to  have  been  an  article  of  current  belief  during  the  middle 
ages,  as  appears  from  the  statutes  of  the  order  Dii  Saint  Esprit  au 
droit  desir,  instituted  in  1352.  A  chapter  of  the  knights  is  ap- 
pointed to  be  held  annually  at  the  Castle  of  the  Enchanted  Egg, 
near  the  grotto  of  Virgil.   (Montfaucon,  vol.  ii,  p.  329.) 

Note  125,  p.  273 

A  merlin,  or  sparrow-hawk,  was  actually  carried  by  ladies  of 
rank,  as  a  falcon  was,  in  time  of  peace,  the  constant  attendant 
of  a  knight,  or  baron.  Godscroft  relates,  that  when  Mary  of 
Lorraine  was  regent,  she  pressed  the  Earl  of  Angus  to  admit  a 

402 


NOTES 

royal  garrison  into  his  Castle  of  Tantallon.  To  this  he  returned 
no  direct  answer;  but,  as  if  apostrophising  a  goshawk,  which  sat 
on  his  wrist,  and  which  he  was  feeding  during  the  Queen's  speech, 
he  exclaimed,  'The  devil's  in  this  greedy  glede,  she  will  never 
be  full.'  Barclay  complains  of  the  common  and  indecent  prac- 
tice of  bringing  hawks  and  hounds  into  churches. 

Note  126,  p.  273 

The  peacock,  it  is  well  known,  was  considered,  during  the 
times  of  chivalry,  not  merely  as  an  exquisite  delicacy,  but  as  a 
dish  of  peculiar  solemnity.  After  being  roasted,  it  was  again 
decorated  with  its  plumage,  and  a  sponge,  dipped  in  lighted  spir- 
its of  wine,  was  placed  in  its  bill.  When  it  was  introduced  on 
days  of  grand  festivals,  it  was  the  signal  for  the  adventurous 
knights  to  take  upon  them  vows  to  do  some  deed  of  chivalry, 
'before  the  peacock  and  the  ladies.' 

The  boar's  head  was  also  a  usual  dish  of  feudal  splendour. 
In  Scotland  it  was  sometimes  surrounded  with  little  banners, 
displaying  the  colours  and  achievements  of  the  baron  at  whose 
board  it  was  served. 

Note  127,  p.  274 

There  are  often  flights  of  wild  swans  upon  St.  Mary's  Lake, 
at  the  head  of  the  river  Yarrow. 


Note  128,  p.  275 

The  Rutherfords  of  Hunthill  were  an  ancient  race  of  Border 
Lairds,  whose  names  occur  in  history,  sometimes  as  defending 
the  frontier  against  the  English,  sometimes  as  disturbing  the 
peace  of  their  own  country.  Dickon  Draw-the-sword  was  son 
to  the  ancient  warrior,  called  in  tradition  the  Cock  of  Hunthill, 
remarkable  for  leading  into  battle  nine  sons,  gallant  warriors, 
all  sons  of  the  aged  champion.  Mr.  Rutherford,  late  of  New 
York,  in  a  letter  to  the  editor,  soon  after  these  songs  were  first 


403 


NOTES 

published,  quoted,  when  upwards  of  eighty  years  old,  a  ballad 
apparently  the  same  with  the  '  Raid  of  the  Reidsquare,'  but 
which  apparently  is  lost,  except  the  following  lines:  — 

Bauld  Rutherfurd  he  was  fu'  stout. 
With  all  his  nine  sons  him  about, 
He  brought  the  lads  of  Jedbrught  out, 
And  bauldly  fought  that  day. 

Note  129,  p.  275 

To  bite  the  thumb,  or  the  glove,  seems  not  to  have  been  con- 
sidered, upon  the  Border,  as  a  gesture  of  contempt,  though  so 
used  by  Shakespeare,  but  as  a  pledge  of  mortal  revenge.  It  is 
yet  remembered,  that  a  young  gentleman  of  Teviotdale,  on  the 
morning  after  a  hard  drinking-bout,  observed  that  he  had  bitten 
his  glove.  He  instantly  demanded  of  his  companion,  with  whom 
he  had  quarrelled?  and  learning  that  he  had  had  words  with  one 
of  the  party,  insisted  on  instant  satisfaction,  asserting,  that 
though  he  remembered  nothing  of  the  dispute,  yet  he  was  sure 
he  never  would  have  bit  his  glove  unless  he  had  received  some 
unpardonable  insult.  He  fell  in  the  duel,  which  was  fought  near 
Selkirk,  in  1721. 

Note  130,  p.  76 

The  person  bearing  this  redoubtable  vom  de  guerre  was  an 
Elliot,  and  resided  at  Thorleshope,  in  Liddesdale.  He  occurs 
in  the  list  of  Border  riders,  in  1597. 

Note  131,  p.  276 

A  tradition  preserved  by  Scott  of  Satchells,  who  published, 
in  1688,  A  True  History  of  the  Right  Honourable  Name  of  Scott, 
gives  the  following  romantic  origin  of  that  name.  Two  brethren, 
natives  of  Galloway,  having  been  banished  from  that  country 
for  a  riot,  or  insurrection,  came  to  Rankleburn,  in  Ettrick  Forest, 
where  the  keeper,  whose  name  was  Brydone,  received  them  joy- 
fully, on  account  of  their  skill  in  winding  the  horn,  and  in  the 
other  mysteries  of  the  chase.  Kenneth  MacAlpin,  then  King  of 
Scotland,  came  soon  after  to  hunt  in  the  royal  forest,  and  pur- 

404 


NOTES 

sued  a  buck  from  Ettrick-heuch  to  the  glen  now  called  Buck- 
cleuch,  about  two  miles  above  the  junction  of  Rankleburn  with 
the  river  Ettrick.  Here  the  stag  stood  at  bay;  and  the  king  and 
his  attendants,  who  followed  on  horseback,  were  thrown  out  by 
the  steepness  of  the  hill  and  the  morass.  John,  one  of  the  breth- 
ren from  Galloway,  had  followed  the  chase  on  foot ;  and  now  com- 
ing in,  seized  the  buck  by  the  horns,  and,  being  a  man  of  great 
strength  and  activity,  threw  him  on  his  back,  and  ran  with  his 
burden  about  a  mile  up  the  steep  hill,  to  a  place  called  Cracra- 
Cross,  where  Kenneth  had  halted,  and  laid  the  buck  at  the 
Sovereign's  feet.^ 

The  deer  being  curee'd  in  that  place, 

At  his  Majesty's  demand. 
Then  John  of  Galloway  ran  apace, 

And  fetched  water  to  his  hand. 
The  King  did  wash  into  a  dish. 

And  Galloway  John  he  wot; 
He  said,  'Thy  name  now  after  this 

Shall  ever  be  called  John  Scott. 

'  The  forest  and  the  deer  therein. 

We  commit  to  thy  hand; 
For  thou  shall  sure  the  ranger  be. 

If  thou  obey  command; 
And  for  the  buck  thou  stoutly  brought 

To  us  up  that  steep  heuch, 
Thy  designation  ever  shall 

Be  John  Scott  in  Buckscleuch.' 

******         0 

In  Scotland  no  Buckcleuch  was  then. 
Before  the  buck  in  the  cleuch  was  slain; 
Night's  men  ^  at  first  they  did  appear. 
Because  moon  and  stars  to  their  arms  they  bear. 

>  Froissart  relates,  that  a  knight  of  the  household  of  the  Comte  de  Foix  exhib- 
ited a  similar  feat  of  strength.  The  hall-fire  had  waxed  low,  and  wood  was  wanted 
to  mend  it.  The  knight  went  down  to  the  court-yard,  where  stood  an  ass  laden 
with  fagots,  seized  on  the  animal  and  burden,  and,  carrying  him  up  to  the  hall  on 
his  shoulders,  tumbled  him  into  the  chimney  with  his  heels  uppermost:  a  humane 
pleasantry,  much  applauded  by  the  Count  and  all  the  spectators. 

*  'Minions  of  the  moon,"  as  Falstaff  would  have  said.  The  vocation  pursued 
by  our  ancient  Borderers  may  be  justified  on  the  authority  of  the  most  polished  of 
the  ancient  nations:  'For  the  Grecians  in  old  time,  and  such  barbarians  as  in  the 
continent  lived  neere  unto  the  sea,  or  else  inhabited  the  islands,  after  once  they 
began  to  crosse  over  one  to  another  in  ships,  became  theeves,  and  went  abroad 
under  the  conduct  of  their  more  puissant  men,  both  to  enrich  themselves,  and  to 
fetch  in  maintenance  for  the  weak;  and  falling  upon  towns  unfortified,  or  scat- 
teringly  inhabited,  rifled  them,  and  made  this  the  best  means  of  thear  living;  being 
a  matter  at  that  time  no  where  in  disgrace,  but  rather  carrying  with  it  something 


NOTES 

Their  crest,  supporters,  and  hunting-horn, 
Show  their  beginning  from  hunting  came; 
Their  name,  and  style,  the  book  doth  say, 
John  gained  them  both  into  one  day. 

Watt's  BelUnden. 

The  Buccleuch  arms  have  been  altered,  and  now  allude  less 
pointedly  to  this  hunting,  whether  real  or  fabulous.  The  family 
now  bear  Or,  upon  a  bend  azure,  a  mullet  betwixt  two  crescents 
of  the  field ;  in  addition  to  which,  they  formerly  bore  in  the  field 
a  hunting-horn.  The  supporters,  now  two  ladies,  were  formerly 
a  hound  and  buck,  or,  according  to  the  old  terms,  a  hart  of  leash 
and  a  hart  of  greece.  The  family  of  Scott  of  Howpasley  and  Thirle- 
staine  long  retained  the  bugle-horn;  they  also  carried  a  bent  bow 
and  arrow  in  the  sinister  cantle,  perhaps  as  a  difference.  It  is 
said  the  motto  was,  —  Best  riding  by  moonlight,  in  allusion  to 
the  crescents  on  the  shield,  and  perhaps  to  the  habits  of  those 
who  bore  it.  The  motto  now  given  is  Amo,  applying  to  the  female 
supporters. 

Note  132,  p.  277 

John  Grahame,  second  son  of  Malice,  Earl  of  Monteith,  com- 
monly surnamed  John  with  the  Bright  Sword,  upon  some  dis- 
pleasure risen  against  him  at  court,  retired  with  many  of  his 
clan  and  kindred  into  the  English  Borders,  in  the  reign  of  King 
Henry  the  Fourth,  where  they  seated  themselves;  and  many  of 
their  posterity  have  continued  there  ever  since.  Mr.  Sandford, 
speaking  of  them,  says  (which  indeed  was  applicable  to  most  of 
the  Borderers  on  both  sides) :  'They  were  all  stark  moss-troopers, 
and  arrant  thieves;  Both  to  England  and  Scotland  outlawed: 
yet  sometimes  connived  at,  because  they  gave  intelligence  forth 
of  Scotland,  and  would  raise  400  horse  at  any  time  upon  a  raid 

of  glory.  This  is  manifest  by  some  that  dwell  upon  the  continent,  amongst  whom 
so  it  be  performed  nobly,  it  is  still  esteemed  as  an  ornament.  The  same  is  also 
proved  by  some  of  the  ancient  poets,  who  introduced  men  questioning  of  such  as 
sail  by,  on  all  coasts  alike,  whether  they  be  theeves  or  not;  as  a  thyng  neyther 
scorned  by  such  as  were  asked,  nor  upbraided  by  those  that  were  desirous  to  know. 
They  also  robbed  one  another,  within  the  main  land;  and  much  of  Greece  useth 
that  old  custome,  as  the  Locrians,  the  Acarnanians,  and  those  of  the  continent  in 
that  quarter,  unto  this  day.  Moreover,  the  fashion  of  wearing  iron  remaineth  yet 
with  the  people  of  that  continent,  from  their  old  trade  of  theeving.'  (Hobbes'a 
Thucydides,  p.  4.  Lond.) 

406 


1 


NOTES 

of  the  English  into  Scotland.  A  saying  is  recorded  of  a  mother 
to  her  son  (which  is  now  become  proverbial),  Ride,  Rowley, 
hough 's  i'  the  pot:  that  is,  the  last  piece  of  beef  was  in  the  pot, 
and  therefore  it  was  high  time  for  him  to  go  and  fetch  more.' 
{Introduction  to  the  History  of  Cumberland.) 

The  residence  of  the  Graemes  being  chiefly  in  the  Debatable 
Land,  so  called  because  it  was  claimed  by  both  kingdoms,  their 
depredations  extended  both  to  England  and  Scotland  with  im- 
punity; for  as  both  wardens  accounted  them  the  proper  subjects 
of  their  own  prince,  neither  inclined  to  demand  reparation  for 
their  excesses  from  the  opposite  officers,  which  would  have  been 
an  acknowledgment  of  his  jurisdiction  over  them. 

Note  133,  p.  278 

This  burden  is  adopted,  with  some  alteration,  from  an  old 
Scottish  song,  beginning  thus:  — 

She  lean'd  her  back  against  a  thorn, 
The  sun  shines  fair  on  Carlisle  wa': 

And  there  she  has  her  young  babe  bom. 
And  the  lyon  shall  be  lord  of  a'. 

Note  134,  p.  280 

The  gallant  and  unfortunate  Henry  Howard,  Earl  of  Surrey, 
was  unquestionably  the  most  accomplished  cavalier  of  his  time; 
and  his  sonnets  display  beauties  which  would  do  honour  to  a 
more  polished  age.  He  was  beheaded  on  Tower  Hill  in  1546;  a 
victim  to  the  mean  jealousy  of  Henry  VHI,  who  could  not  bear 
so  brilliant  a  character  near  his  throne. 

The  song  of  the  supposed  bard  is  founded  on  an  incident  said 
to  have  happened  to  the  Earl  in  his  travels.  Cornelius  Agrippa, 
the  celebrated  alchemist,  showed  him,  in  a  looking-glass,  the 
lovely  Geraldine,  to  whose  service  he  had  devoted  his  pen  and 
his  sword.  The  vision  represented  her  as  indisposed,  and  reclin- 
ing upon  a  couch,  reading  her  lover's  verses  by  the  light  of  a 
waxen  taper. 

407 


NOTES 

Note  135,  p.  283 

The  St.  Clairs  are  of  Norman  extraction,  being  descended 
from  William  de  St.  Clair,  second  son  of  Walderne  Compte  de  St. 
Clair,  and  Margaret,  daughter  to  Richard  Duke  of  Normandy. 
He  was  called,  for  his  fair  deportment,  the  Seemly  St.  Clair; 
and,  settling  in  Scotland  during  the  reign  of  Malcolm  Caenmore, 
obtained  large  grants  of  land  in  Mid-Lothian.  These  domains 
were  increased  by  the  liberality  of  succeeding  monarchs  to  the 
descendants  of  the  family,  and  comprehended  the  baronies  of 
Rosline,  Pentland,  Cowsland,  Cardaine,  and  several  others.  It 
is  said  a  large  addition  was  obtained  from  Robert  Bruce,  on  the 
following  occasion:  The  King,  in  following  the  chase  upon  Pent- 
land-hills,  had  often  started  a  'white  faunch  deer,'  which  had 
always  escaped  from  his  hounds ;  and  he  asked  the  nobles,  who 
were  assembled  around  him,  whether  any  of  them  had  dogs, 
which  they  thought  might  be  more  successful.  No  courtier  would 
affirm  that  his  hounds  were  fleeter  than  those  of  the  king,  until 
Sir  William  St.  Clair  of  Rosline  unceremoniously  said,  he  would 
wager  his  head  that  his  two  favourite  dogs.  Help  and  Hold,  would 
kill  the  deer  before  she  could  cross  the  March-burn.  The  King 
instantly  caught  at  his  unwary  offer,  and  betted  the  forest  of 
Pentland-moor  against  the  life  of  Sir  William  St.  Clair.  All  the 
hounds  were  tied  up,  except  a  few  ratches,  or  slow-hounds,  to 
put  up  the  deer;  while  Sir  William  St.  Clair,  posting  himself  in 
the  best  situation  for  slipping  his  dogs,  prayed  devoutly  to  Christ, 
the  blessed  Virgin,  and  St.  Katherine.  The  deer  was  shortly 
after  roused,  and  the  hounds  slipped ;  Sir  William  following  on 
a  gallant  steed,  to  cheer  his  dogs.  The  hind,  however,  reached 
the  middle  of  the  brook,  upon  which  the  hunter  threw  himself 
from  his  horse  in  despair.  At  this  critical  moment,  however. 
Hold  stopped  her  in  the  brook;  and  Help,  coming  up,  turned  her 
back,  and  killed  her  on  Sir  William's  side.  The  King  descended 
from  the  hill,  embraced  Sir  William,  and  bestowed  on  him  the 
lands  of  Kirkton,  Logan-house,  Earncraig,  etc.  in  free  forestrie. 
Sir  William,  in  acknowledgment  of  St.  Katherine's  intercession, 

408 


NOTES 

built  the  chapel  of  St.  Katherine  in  the  Hopes,  the  churchyard 
of  which  is  still  to  be  seen.  The  hill,  from  which  Robert  Bruce 
beheld  this  memorable  chase,  is  still  called  the  King's  Hill;  and 
the  place  where  Sir  William  hunted,  is  called  the  Knight's  Field,* 
(MS.  History  of  the  Family  of  St.  Clair,  by  Richard  Augustin 
Hay,  Canon  of  St.  Genevieve.) 

This  adventurous  huntsman  married  Elizabeth,  daughter  of 
Malice  Spar,  Earl  of  Orkney  and  Stratherne,  in  whose  right  their 
son  Henry  was,  in  1379,  created  Earl  of  Orkney,  by  Haco,  king 
of  Norway.  His  title  was  recognised  by  the  Kings  of  Scotland, 
and  remained  with  his  successors  until  it  was  annexed  to  the 
Crown,  in  147 1,  by  Act  of  Parliament.  In  exchange  for  this  earl- 
dom, the  castle  and  domains  of  Ravenscraig,  or  Ravensheuch, 
were  conferred  on  William  St.  Clair,  Earl  of  Caithness. 

Note  136,  p.  283 

The  Castle  of  Kirkwall  was  built  by  the  St.  Clairs,  while  Earls 
of  Orkney.  It  was  dismantled  by  the  Earl  of  Caithness  about 
161 5,  having  been  garrisoned  against  the  government  by  Robert 
Stewart,  natural  son  to  the  Earl  of  Orkney. 

Its  ruins  afforded  a  sad  subject  of  contemplation  to  John,  Mas- 
ter of  St.  Clair,  who,  flying  from  his  native  country,  on  account 
of  his  share  in  the  insurrection  1 7 15,  made  some  stay  at  Kirk- 
wall. 

*  I  had  occasion  to  entertain  myself  at  Kirkwall  with  the  me- 
lancholic prospect  of  the  ruins  of  an  old  castle,  the  seat  of  the 
old  Earls  of  Orkney,  my  ancestors;  and  of  a  more  melancholy 

*  The  tomb  of  Sir  William  St.  Clair,  on  which  he  appears  sculptured  in  armour, 
with  a  greyhound  at  his  feet,  is  still  to  be  seen  in  Roslin  chapel.  The  person  who 
shows  it  always  tells  the  story  of  his  hunting-match,  with  some  addition  to  Mr. 
Hay's  account;  as  that  the  Knight  of  Rosline's  fright  made  him  poetical,  and  that 
in  the  last  emergency,  he  shouted. 

Help,  Haud,  an  ye  may, 

Or  Roslin  will  lose  his  head  this  day. 

If  this  couplet  does  him  no  great  honour  as  a  poet,  the  conclusion  of  the  story 
does  him  still  less  credit.  He  set  his  foot  on  the  dog.  says  the  narrator,  and  killed 
him  on  the  spot,  saying,  he  would  never  again  put  his  neck  in  such  a  risk.  As  Mr. 
Hay  does  not  mention  this  circumstance,  I  hope  it  is  only  founded  on  the  couch- 
ant  posture  of  the  hound  on  the  monument. 

409 


NOTES 

reflection,  of  so  great  and  noble  an  estate  as  the  Orkney  and  Shet- 
land Isles  being  taken  from  one  of  them  by  James  the  Third,  for 
faultrie,  after  his  brother,  Alexander,  Duke  of  Albany,  had  mar- 
ried a  daughter  of  my  family,  and  for  protecting  and  defending 
the  said  Alexander  against  the  King,  who  wished  to  kill  him,  as 
he  had  done  his  youngest  brother,  the  Earl  of  Mar;  and  for  which, 
after  the  forfaultrie,  he  gratefully  divorced  my  forfaulted  ances- 
tor's sister;  though  I  cannot  persuade  myself  that  he  had  any 
misalliance  to  plead  against  a  familie  in  whose  veins  the  blood 
of  Robert  Bruce  ran  as  fresh  as  in  his  own;  for  their  title  to  the 
crowne  was  by  a  daughter  of  David  Bruce,  son  to  Robert;  and 
our  alliance  was  by  marrying  a  grandchild  of  the  same  Robert 
Bruce,  and  daughter  to  the  sister  of  the  same  David,  out  of  the 
familie  of  Douglas,  which  at  that  time  did  not  much  sullie  the 
blood,  more  than  my  ancestor's  having  not  long  before  had  the 
honour  of  marrying  a  daughter  of  the  King  of  Denmark's,  who 
was  named  Florentine,  and  has  left  in  the  town  of  Kirkwall  a 
noble  monument  of  the  grandeur  of  the  times,  the  finest  church 
ever  I  saw  entire  in  Scotland.  I  then  had  no  small  reason  to  think, 
in  that  unhappy  state,  on  the  many  not  inconsiderable  services 
rendered  since  to  the  royal  familie,  for  these  many  years  bygone 
on  all  occasions,  when  they  stood  most  in  need  of  friends,  which 
they  had  thought  themselves  very  often  obliged  to  acknowledge 
by  letters  yet  extant,  and  in  a  style  more  like  friends  than  sou- 
veraigns;  our  attachment  to  them,  without  any  other  thanks, 
having  brought  upon  us  considerable  losses,  and  among  others, 
that  of  our  all  in  Cromwell's  time;  and  left  in  that  condition 
without  the  least  relief  except  what  we  found  in  our  own  virtue. 
My  father  was  the  only  man  of  the  Scots  nation  who  had  cour- 
age enough  to  protest  in  Parliament  against  King  William's 
title  to  the  throne,  which  was  lost,  God  knows  how:  and  this  at 
a  time  when  the  losses  in  the  cause  of  the  royall  familie,  and  their 
usual  gratitude,  had  scarce  left  him  bread  to  maintain  a  numer- 
ous familie  of  eleven  children,  who  had  soon  after  sprung  up  on 
him,  in  spite  of  all  which,  he  had  honourably  persisted  in  his 
principle.  I  say,  these  things  considered,  and  after  being  treated 

410 


NOTES 

as  I  was,  and  in  that  unluckie  state,  when  objects  appear  to  men 
in  their  true  light,  as  at  the  hour  of  death,  could  I  be  blamed  for 
making  some  bitter  reflections  to  myself,  and  laughing  at  the 
extravagance  and  unaccountable  humour  of  men,  and  the  singu- 
laritie  of  my  own  case  (an  exile  for  the  cause  of  the  Stuart  family) , 
when  I  ought  to  have  known,  that  the  greatest  crime  I,  or  my 
family,  could  have  committed,  was  persevering,  to  my  own  de- 
struction, in  serving  the  royal  family  faithfully,  though  obsti- 
nately, after  so  great  a  share  of  depression,  and  after  they  had 
been  pleased  to  doom  me  and  my  familie  to  starve.'  (MS.  Me- 
moirs of  John,  Master  of  St.  Clair.) 

Note  137,  p.  284 

The  chiefs  of  the  Vakingr  or  Scandinavian  pirates  assumed  the 
title  of  Ssekonungr,  or  Sea-kings.  Ships,  in  the  inflated  language 
of  the  Skalds,  are  often  termed  the  serpents  of  the  ocean. 

Note  138,  p.  284 

The  jormungandr,  or  Snake  of  the  Ocean,  whose  folds  sur- 
round the  earth,  is  one  of  the  wildest  fictions  of  the  Edda.  It 
was  very  nearly  caught  by  the  god  Thor,  who  went  to  fish  for 
it  with  a  hook  baited  with  a  bull's  head.  In  the  battle  betwixt 
the  evil  demons  and  the  divinities  of  Odin,  which  is  to  precede 
the  Ragnarockr,  or  Twilight  of  the  Gods,  this  Snake  is  to  act  a 
conspicuous  part. 

Note  139,  p.  284 

These  were  the  Valkyrier,  or  Selectors  of  the  Slain,  despatched 
by  Odin  from  Valhalla,  to  choose  those  who  were  to  die,  and 
to  distribute  the  contest.  They  are  well  known  to  the  English 
reader  as  Gray's  Fatal  Sisters. 

Note  140,  p.  285 

The  Northern  warriors  were  usually  entombed  with  their 
arms  and  their  other  treasures.  Thus  Angantyr,  before  commenc- 
ing the  duel  in  which  he  was  slain,  stipulated  that  if  he  fell,  his 

411 


NOTES 

sword  Tyrfing  should  be  buried  with  him.  His  daughter,  Her- 
vor,  afterwards  took  it  from  his  tomb.  The  dialogue  which  passed 
betwixt  her  and  Angantyr's  spirit  on  this  occasion  has  been  often 
translated.  The  whole  history  may  be  found  in  the  Hervarar- 
Saga.  Indeed,  the  ghosts  of  the  Northern  warriors  were  not  wont 
tamely  to  suffer  their  tombs  to  be  plundered;  and  hence  the 
mortal  heroes  had  an  additional  temptation  to  attempt  such 
adventures;  for  they  held  nothing  more  worthy  of  their  valour 
than  to  encounter  supernatural  beings. 

Note  141,  p.  285 

This  was  a  family  name  in  the  house  of  St.  Clair.  Henry  St. 
Clair,  the  second  of  the  line,  married  Rosabella,  fourth  daughter 
of  the  Earl  of  Stratherne. 

Note  142,  p.  285 

A  large  and  strong  castle,  situated  betwixt  Kirkaldy  and  Dy- 
sart,  on  a  steep  crag,  washed  by  the  Frith  of  Forth.  It  was  con- 
ferred on  Sir  William  St.  Clair,  as  a  slight  compensation  for  the 
earldom  of  Orkney,  by  a  charter  of  King  James  III,  dated  in 
1471. 

Note  143,  p.  287 

The  beautiful  chapel  of  Roslin  is  still  in  tolerable  preservation. 
It  was  founded  in  1446,  by  William  St.  Clair,  Prince  of  Orkney, 
Duke  of  Oldenburgh,  Earl  of  Caithness  and  Stratherne,  Lord  St. 
Clair,  Lord  Niddesdale,  Lord  Admiral  of  the  Scottish  Seas,  Lord 
Chief  Justice  of  Scotland,  Lord  Warden  of  the  three  Marches, 
Baron  of  Roslin,  Pentland,  Pentland  Moor,  etc.,  Knight  of  the 
Cockle,  and  of  the  Garter  (as  is  affirmed),  High  Chancellor, 
Chamberlain,  and  Lieutenant  of  Scotland.  This  lofty  person, 
whose  titles,  says  Godscroft,  might  weary  a  Spaniard,  built  the 
castle  of  Roslin,  where  he  resided  in  princely  splendour,  and 
founded  the  chapel,  which  is  in  the  most  rich  and  florid  style  of 
Gothic  architecture.  Among  the  profuse  carving  on  the  pillars 
and  buttresses,  the  rose  is  frequently  introduced,  in  allusion  to 

412 


I 


NOTES 

the  name,  with  which,  however,  the  flower  has  no  connexion ;  the 
etymology  being  Rosslinnhe,  the  promontory  of  the  linn,  or 
waterfall.  The  chapel  is  said  to  appear  on  fire  previous  to  the 
death  of  any  of  his  descendants.  This  superstition,  noticed  by 
Slezer  in  his  Theatrum  Scotice,  and  alluded  to  in  the  text,  is  prob- 
ably of  Norwegian  derivation,  and  may  have  been  imported 
by  the  Earls  of  Orkney  into  their  Lothian  dominions.  The  tomb- 
fires  of  the  north  are  mentioned  in  most  of  the  Sagas. 

The  Barons  of  Roslin  were  buried  in  a  vault  beneath  the  chapel 
floor.  The  manner  of  their  interment  is  thus  described  by  Father 
Hay,  in  the  MS.  history  already  quoted. 

'Sir  William  Sinclair,  the  father,  was  a  leud  man.  He  kept 
a  miller's  daughter,  with  whom,  it  is  alleged,  he  went  to  Ireland; 
yet  I  think  the  cause  of  his  retreat  was  rather  occasioned  by  the 
Presbyterians,  who  vexed  him  sadly,  because  of  his  religion 
being  Roman  Catholic.  His  son,  Sir  William,  died  during  the 
troubles,  and  was  interred  in  the  chapel  of  Roslin  the  very  same 
day  that  the  battle  of  Dunbar  was  fought.  When  my  good- 
father  was  buried,  his  (i.e..  Sir  William's)  corpse  seemed  to  be 
entire  at  the  opening  of  the  cave;  but  when  they  came  to  touch 
his  body,  it  fell  into  dust.  He  was  laying  in  his  armour,  with  a 
red  velvet  cap  on  his  head,  on  a  flat  stone;  nothing  was  spoiled 
except  a  piece  of  the  white  furring  that  went  round  the  cap,  and 
answered  to  the  hinder  part  of  the  head.  All  his  predecessors 
were  buried  after  the  same  manner,  in  their  armour ;  late  Rosline, 
my  good-father,  was  the  first  that  was  buried  in  a  coffin,  against 
the  sentiments  of  King  James  the  Seventh,  who  was  then  in 
Scotland,  and  several  other  persons  well  versed  in  antiquity,  to 
whom  my  mother  would  not  hearken,  thinking  it  beggarly  to  be 
buried  after  that  manner.  The  great  expenses  she  was  at  in 
burying  her  husband,  occasioned  the  sumptuary  acts,  which 
were  made  in  the  following  Parliament.' 

Note  144,  p.  290 

The  ancient  castle  of  Peel  Town,  in  the  Isle  of  Man,  is  sur- 
rounded by  four  churches,  now  ruinous.   Through  one  of  these 

413 


NOTES 

chapels  there  was  formerly  a  passage  from  the  guard-room  of 
the  garrison.  This  was  closed,  it  is  said,  upon  the  following  occa- 
sion: 'They  say,  that  an  apparition,  called,  in  the  Mankish  lan- 
guage, the  Mauthe  Doog,  in  the  shape  of  a  large  black  spaniel, 
with  curled  shaggy  hair,  was  used  to  haunt  Peel-castle;  and  has 
been  frequently  seen  in  every  room,  but  particularly  in  the  guard- 
chamber,  where,  as  soon  as  candles  were  lighted,  it  came  and  lay 
down  before  the  fire,  in  presence  of  all  the  soldiers,  who,  at  length, 
by  being  so  much  accustomed  to  the  sight  of  it,  lost  great  part 
of  the  terror  they  were  seized  with  at  its  first  appearance.  They 
still,  however,  retained  a  certain  awe,  as  believing  it  was  an  evil 
spirit,  which  only  waited  permission  to  do  them  hurt;  and,  for 
that  reason,  forebore  swearing,  and  all  profane  discourse,  while 
in  its  company.  But  though  they  endured  the  shock  of  such  a 
guest  when  altogether  in  a  body,  none  cared  to  be  left  alone  with 
it.  It  being  the  custom,  therefore,  for  one  of  the  soldiers  to  lock 
the  gates  of  the  castle  at  a  certain  hour,  and  carry  the  keys  to 
the  captain,  to  whose  apartment,  as  I  said  before,  the  way  led 
through  the  church,  they  agreed  among  themselves,  that  who- 
ever was  to  succeed  the  ensuing  night  his  fellow  in  this  errand, 
should  accompany  him  that  went  first,  and  by  this  means  no 
man  would  be  exposed  singly  to  the  danger;  for  I  forgot  to  men- 
tion, that  the  Matithe  Doog  was  always  seen  to  come  out  from 
that  passage  at  the  close  of  the  day,  and  return  to  it  again  as 
soon  as  the  morning  dawned;  which  made  them  look  on  this 
place  as  its  peculiar  residence. 

'One  night  a  fellow  being  drunk,  and  by  the  strength  of  his 
liquor  rendered  more  daring  than  ordinarily,  laughed  at  the  sim- 
plicity of  his  companions;  and,  though  it  was  not  his  turn  to  go 
with  the  keys,  would  needs  take  that  office  upon  him,  to  testify 
his  courage.  All  the  soldiers  endeavoured  to  dissuade  him;  but 
the  more  they  said,  the  more  resolute  he  seemed,  and  swore  that 
he  desired  nothing  more  than  that  the  Mauthe  Doog  would  fol- 
low him,  as  it  had  done  the  others;  for  he  would  try  if  it  were 
dog  or  devil.  After  having  talked  in  a  \ery  reprobate  manner  for 
some  time,  he  snatched  up  the  keys,  and  went  out  of  the  guard- 

414 


NOTES 

room.  In  some  time  after  his  departure,  a  great  noise  was  heard, 
but  nobody  had  the  boldness  to  see  what  occasioned  it,  till, 
the  adventurer  returning,  they  demanded  the  knowledge  of 
him ;  but  as  loud  and  noisy  as  he  had  been  at  leaving  them,  he 
was  now  become  sober  and  silent  enough ;  for  he  was  never  heard 
to  speak  more;  and  though  all  the  time  he  lived,  which  was  three 
days,  he  was  entreated  by  all  who  came  near  him,  either  to  speak, 
or,  if  he  could  not  do  that,  to  make  some  signs,  by  which  they 
might  understand  what  had  happened  to  him,  yet  nothing  in- 
telligible could  be  got  from  him,  only  that,  by  the  distortion  of 
his  limbs  and  features,  it  might  be  guessed  that  he  died  in  agonies 
more  than  is  common  in  a  natural  death. 

'The  Mauthe  Doog  was,  however,  never  after  seen  in  the 
castle,  nor  would  any  one  attempt  to  go  through  that  passage; 
for  which  reason  it  was  closed  up,  and  another  way  made.  This 
accident  happened  about  three  score  years  since ;  and  I  heard  it 
attested  by  several,  but  especially  by  an  old  soldier,  who  as- 
sured me  he  had  seen  it  oftener  than  he  had  then  hairs  on  his 
head.'   (Waldron's  Description  of  the  Isle  of  Man,  p.  107.) 

Note  145,  p.  290 

This  was  a  favourite  saint  of  the  house  of  Douglas,  and  of  the 
Earl  of  Angus  in  particular;  as  we  learn  from  the  following  pas- 
sage: 'The  Queen  Regent  had  proposed  to  raise  a  rival  noble  to 
the  ducal  dignity;  and  discoursing  of  her  purpose  with  Angus, 
he  answered,  "Why  not,  madam?  we  are  happy  that  have  such 
a  princess,  that  can  know  and  will  acknowledge  men's  services, 
and  is  willing  to  recompense  it;  but,  by  the  might  of  God  "  (this 
was  his  oath  when  he  was  serious  and  in  anger;  at  other  times,  it 
was  by  St.  Bryde  of  Douglas),  "if  he  be  a  Duke,  I  will  be  a 
Drake! "  —  So  she  desisted  from  prosecuting  of  that  purpose.' 
(Godscroft,  vol.  11,  p.  131.) 


GLOSSARY 


•bbaye,  an  abbey. 

aboon,  above. 

acton,  a  buckram  vest  worn  under 
armour. 

oin,  own. 

air,  a  sand-bank. 

aim,  iron. 

•Imagest,  an  astronomical  or  astro- 
logical treatise. 

Almayn,  German. 

amice,  an  ecclesiastical  vestment. 

amrie,  ambry,  a  cupboard,  a  locker. 

an,  if. 

ance,  once. 

ane,  one. 

anerly,  alone. 

aneugh,  enough. 

angel,  an  old  English  gold  coin. 

arquebus,  a  hagbut,  or  heavy  musket. 

auld,  old;  auld  Reekie,  Edinburgh. 

aventayle,  the  movable  front  of  a 
helmet. 

balm,  a  child. 

baith,  both. 

baldric,  a  belt. 

bale,  a  beacon-fire. 

ballium,  a  fortified  court. 

bandelier,  a  belt  for  carrying  ammu- 
nition. 

baa-dog,  a  watch-dog. 

bandrol,  a  kind  of  banner  or  en- 
sign. 

banes,  bones. 

bang,  strike  violently,  beat,  surpass. 

barbican,  the  fortification  at  a  castle- 
gate. 

barded,  armoured  (said  of  horses). 

barding,  horse-armour. 

barret-cap,  a  cloth  cap. 

bartizan,  a  small  overhanging  turret. 

basnet,  a  light  helmet. 

boasened,  having  a  white  stripe  down 
the  face. 


battalia,  a  battalion,  an  army  (not  a 

plural). 
battle,  an  army. 
beadsman,  one  hired  to  oSer  prayers 

for  another. 
beaver,  the  movable  front  of  a  helmet. 
Beltane,  the  first  of  May  (a  Celtic 

festival). 
bend,  bind. 

bend  (noun),  a  heraldic  term, 
bent,  a  slope;  also,  aimed, 
beshrew,  may  evil  befall,  confound. 
bicker,  a  cup,  a  wooden  vessel. 
bill,  a  kind  of  battle-axe  or  halberd, 
billmen,  troops  armed  with  the  bill, 
black-jack,  a  leather  jug  or  pitcher, 
blaze,  blazon,  proclaim, 
blink,  a  glimpse. 
bluidy,  bloody. 
bonail,  i.  e.  bonallez,  a  god-speed, 

parting  with  a  friend. 
bonnet-pieces,  gold  coins  with  the 

king's  cap  (bonnet)  on  them. 
boot  and  bale,  help  and  hurt, 
boune,  bowne,  prepare,  make  ready, 
boiine,  ready,  prepared, 
bountith,  a  gratuity. 
bourd,  a  jest. 

bow  o'  kye,  a  herd  of  cattle. 
bower,  a  chamber,  a  lodging-place, 

a  lady's  apartments. 
bra',  braw,  brave, 
bracken,  fern. 
brae,  a  hillside. 
braid,  broad, 
branking,  prancing, 
brast,  burst. 
bratchet,  a  slowhound. 
brigantine,  a  kind  of  body  armour, 
brigg,  a  bridge. 
brock,  a  badger. 
broke,  quartered  (the  cutting  up  of  a 

deer). 
broae,  broth. 


«6 


417 


GLOSSARY 


brotiklns,  buskins. 

bxiff.  a  thick  cloth. 

bum,  a  brook. 

busk,  dress,  prepare. 

buxom,  lively. 

by  times,  betimes,  early. 

eaird,  a  tinker. 

cairn,  a  heap  of  stones. 

caima,  cotton-grass. 

cantle,  the  crown. 

canty,  cheerful,  lively. 

cap  of  maintenance,  a  cap  worn  by 
the  king-at-arms  or  chief  herald. 

carle,  a  fellow. 

carline,  a  woman,  a  witch. 

carp,  talk. 

cast,  a  pair  (of  hawks). 

causey,  a  causeway. 

chanters,  the  pipes  of  the  bagpipe. 

check  at,  meditate  attack  (in  talcon- 
ry). 

cheer,  face,  countenance. 

claymore,  a  large  sword. 

clerk,  a  scholar. 

clip,  clasp,  embrace. 

clout,  mend. 

cogie,  a  small  wooden  bowl. 

combust,  an  astrological  term. 

corbel,  a  bracket. 

coronach,  a  dirge. 

correi,  a  hollow  in  a  hillside,  a  resort 
of  game. 

crabs,  crab-apples. 

craig,  the  head. 

crenell,  an  aperture  for  shooting  ar- 
rows through. 

cresset,  a  hanging  lamp  or  chande- 
lier. 

crouse,  bold. 

culver,  a  small  cannon. 

cumber,  trouble. 

cummer,  a  gossip,  an  intimate  friend. 

curch,  a  matron's  coif,  or  head-dress. 

cushat-dove,  a  wood-pigeon. 

daggled,  bespattered. 
darkling,  in  the  dark, 
daunder,  saunter,  wander. 
daantOQ,  subdue,  tame. 


deas,  a  dais,  a  platform. 

deft,  skilful. 

demi-volt,  a  movement  in  horseman- 
ship. 

dem,  hid. 

dight,  decked,  dressed,  prepared. 

dlnna,  do  not. 

dinnle,  tinkle,  thrill. 

dint,  strike,  knock. 

dirdum,  an  uproar. 

donjon,  the  main  tower  or  keep  of  a 
castle. 

doom,  judgment,  arbitration. 

double  tresstire,  a  kind  of  border  in 
heraldry. 

dought,  was  able,  could. 

down,  a  hill. 

downa,  do  not. 

dramock,  meal  and  water. 

drie,  suffer,  endure. 

drouth,  thirst. 

dwam,  a  swoon,  a  fainting  fit. 

earn,  erne,  an  eagle, 
ebumine,  made  of  ivory, 
een,  eyes. 

embossed,exhausted  by  running,  foam- 
ing at  the  mouth  (hunter's  term), 
emprise,  enterprise. 
ensenzie,  an  ensign,  a  war-cry. 
even,  spotless,  pure. 

fallzie,  failure. 

falcon,  a  kind  of  small  cannon. 

fand,  found. 

fang,  to  catch. 

far  yaud,  the  signal  made  by  a  shep- 
herd to  his  dog,  when  he  is  to  drive 
away  some  sheep  at  a  distance. 

Fastem's  night,  Shrove  Tuesday. 

fauld,  a  sheep-fold. 

fay,  faith. 

ferlie,  a  marvel. 

fleech,  flatter,  cajole. 

flemens-firth,  an  asylum  for  outlaws. 

foray,  a  predatory  inroad. 

force,  a  waterfall. 

fosse,  a  ditch,  a  moat. 

foo,  full,  tipsy. 

fra«,  from. 


418 


GLOSSARY 


fretted,  adorned  with  raised  work. 

fro,  from. 

frounced,  flounced,  plaited. 

gae,  go;  gaed,  went, 
gaitling,  a  young  child, 
galliard,  a  lively  dance. 
gallowglasses,  heavy-armed  soldiers 

(Celtic). 
gane,  gone. 
gang,  go. 
gar,  to  make. 
gazehound,  a  hound  that  pursues  by 

sight  rather  than  scent. 
gear,  goods,  possessions, 
gent,  high-born,  veiliant  and  courteous, 
ghast,  ghastly. 
gie,  give. 
gin,  if. 
gipon,  a  doublet  or  jacket  worn  under 

armour. 
glaive,  a  broadsword, 
glamour,  a  magical  illusion. 
glee-maiden,  a  dancing-girl, 
gleg,  quick,  sharp,  lively, 
glidders,  slippery  stones, 
glozing,  flattering. 
gorged,  having  the  throat  cut. 
gorget,  armour  for  the  throat, 
graith,  armour. 
gramarye,  magic. 
gramercy,    great    thanks    (French, 

grand  merci). 
gree,  prize. 

greet  and  grane,  weep  and  groan, 
gripple,  grasping,  miserly, 
grisly,  horrible,  grim. 
guarded,  edged,  trimmed, 
gude,  good, 
gules,  red  (heraldic). 
gylte,  a  young  sow. 

hackbnteer,  a  soldier  armed  with 
hackbut  or  hagbut,  a  musketeer. 

hae't,  haet,  an  atom. 

haffets,  cheeks. 

hag,  broken  ground  in  a  bog. 

hagbut  (hackbut,  haqaebut,  arque- 
bus, harquebuss,  etc.),  a  heavy 
musket. 


halberd,  halbert,  a  combined  spear 

and  battle-axe. 
hale,  haul,  drag. 
hame,  home. 

handsel,  a  gift,  earnest  money, 
hanger,  a  short  broadsword. 
harried,  plundered,  sacked, 
baud,  hold. 
hearse,  a  canopy  over  a  tomb,  or  the 

tomb  itself. 
heeze,  heise,  hoist,  raise, 
hent,  seize, 
heriot,  tribute  due  to  a  lord  from  a 

vassal. 
heron-shew,  a  young  heron, 
hight,  called,  named,  promised, 
holt,  wood,  woodland. 
hosen,  hose  (old  plural), 
howf,  howff,  a  haunt,  a  resort. 

idlesse,  idleness, 
ilka,  each,  every, 
imp,  a  child. 
inch,  an  island. 

jack,  a  leather  jacket,  a  kind  of  arm> 

our  for  the  body. 
jennet,  a  small  Spanish  horse, 
jerkin,  a  kind  of  short  coat, 
jowing,  ringing  or  tolling. 

kale,  broth. 

kebbuck,  cheese. 

keek,  peep. 

ken,  to  know. 

kern,  a  light-armed  soldier  (Celtic). 

kill,  a  cell. 

kipper,  salmon  or  sea  trout. 

kirk,  a  church. 

kirn,  the  Scottish  harvest-home. 

kirtle,  a  skirt,  a  gown. 

kdst,  a  chest. 

kittle,  ticklish,  delicate. 

knosp,  a  knob  (architectural). 

knowe,  a  knoll,  a  hillock. 

kye,  cows. 

lair,  learning. 

lair,  to  stick  in  the  mud. 

largeMe,  largess,  liberality,  gift. 


419 


GLOSSARY 


lauds,  psalms. 

launcegay,  a  kind  of  spear. 

laverock,  a  lark. 

leading-staff,  a  staff  carried  by  a 
commanding  officer. 

leaguer,  a  camp. 

leal-fast,  loyal,  faithful. 

leash,  a  thong  for  leading  a  grey- 
hound; also  the  hounds  so  led. 

leister,  to  spear. 

leven,  a  lawn,  an  open  space  between 
or  among  woods. 

levin,  lightning,  thunderbolt. 

libbard,  a  leooard. 

Lincoln  green,  a  cloth  worn  by  hunts- 
men. 

linn,  a  waterfall,  a  pool  below  a  fall, 
a  precipice. 

linstock,  lintstock,  a  handle  for  the 
lint  or  match  used  in  firing  cannon. 

lists,  the  enclosure  for  a  tourna- 
ment. 

litherlie,  mischievous,  vicious. 

loon,  a  rogue,  a  strumpet. 

loot,  let. 

lorn,  lost. 

loup,  leap. 

lourd,  rather. 

lout,  bend,  stoop. 

lurch,  rob. 

lurcher,  a  dog  that  lurches  (lurks),  or 
lies  in  wait  for  game. 

lurdane,  a  blockhead. 

lyke-wake,  the  watching  of  a  corpse 
before  burial. 

lyme-dog,  a  bloodhound. 

mair,  more. 

make,  do. 

malison,  a  malediction,  a  curse. 

Malvoisie,  Malmsey  wine. 

march,  a  border,  a  frontier. 

march-treason,   offences   committed 

on  the  Border, 
massy,  massive. 
mauldn,  a  hare, 
maun,  must. 
mavis,  the  thrush, 
meikle,  much,  great, 
melle,  mell,  meddle. 


merk,  a  Scottish  coin  worth  about 

131  d. 
merle,  the  blackbird, 
merlin,  a  spedes  of  falcon, 
mewed,  shut  up,  confined, 
mickle,  much,  great. 
minion,  favourite. 
miniver,  a  kind  of  fur. 
mirk,  dark. 
mony,  many. 

moonlight,  smuggled  spirits, 
morion,  a  steel  cap,  a  helmet, 
morrice-pike,  a  long  heavy  spear, 
morris,  a  kind  of  dance. 
morsing-homs,  powder-flasks, 
mot,  mote,  must,  might, 
muckle,  much,  large. 
muir,  a  moor,  a  heath. 

nae,  no. 

need-ffre,  a  beacon-fire. 

neist,  next. 

nese,  a  nose. 

oe,  an  island. 

O  hone,  alas! 

Omrahs,  nobles  (Turkish). 

or,  gold  (heraldic). 

orra,  odd,  occasional. 

owches,  jewels. 

ower,  over,  too. 

pall,  fine  or  rich  cloth. 

pallioun,  a  pavilion. 

palmer,  a  pilgrim  to  the  Holy  Land. 

pardoner,  a  seller  of  priestly  indul- 
gences. 

partisan,  a  halberd,  a  combination  of 
spear  and  battle-axe. 

peel,  a  Border  tower. 

pensils,  small  pennons  or  streamers. 

pentacle,  a  magic  diagram. 

pibroch,  a  Highland  air  on  the  bag- 
pipe. 

pied,  variegated. 

pike,  pick. 

pirmet,  a  pinnacle. 

pirn,  a  spool,  a  reel. 

placket,  a  stomacher,  a  petticoat,  a 
slit  in  a  petticoat,  etc. 


420 


GLOSSARY 


plate-Jack,  coat-armour. 

plump,  a  body  of  cavalry,  a  group,  a 

company. 
poke,  a  sack,  a  pocket, 
port,  a  lively  tune,  a  catch, 
post  and  pair,  an  old  game  at  cards. 
pow,  a  head. 

pranked,  dressed  up,  adorned, 
presence,  the  royal  presence-chamber, 
pricked,  spurred. 
propine,  a  present. 
pryse,  the  note  blown  at  the  death  of 

the  game. 
puir,  poor. 
pursuivant,  an  attendant  on  a  herald. 

quaigh,  a  wooden  cup,  composed  of 

staves  hooped  together. 
quarry,  game  (hunter's  term), 
quatre-fetiille,     quatrefoil     (Gothic 

ornament). 
quit,  requite. 

rack,  a  floating  cloud. 

racking,  flying,  like  a  breaking  cloud. 

rade,  rode. 

rais,  the  master  of  a  vessel. 

reads,  counsels. 

reave,  tear  away. 

rede,  a  story,  counsel,  advice. 

reiver,  a  plunderer,  a  robber. 

reliquaire,  a  repository  for  relics. 

retrograde,  an  astrological  term. 

rie,  a  prince  or  chief;  O  hone  a  rie, 

alas  for  the  chief] 
rin,  run. 
risp,  creak, 
rive,  tear. 

rochet,  a  bishop's  short  surplice, 
rokelay,  a  short  cloak, 
rood,  a  cross  (as  in  Holy-Rood), 
room,  a  piece  of  land. 
rowan,  the  mountain-ash. 
ruth,  pity,  compassion. 

sack.  Sherry  or  Canary  wine. 

sackless,  innocent. 

sae,  so. 

saga,  a  Scandinavian  epic. 

sair,  sore,  very. 


sail,  shall. 

saltier,  in  heraldry  an  ordinary  in  the 

form  of  a  St.  Andrew's  cross, 
salvo-shot,  a  salute  of  artillery, 
sark,  a  shirt. 
saye,  say,  assertion, 
scalds,  Scandinavian  minstrels, 
scallop,  a  pilgrim's  cockle-shell  worn 

as  an  emblem, 
scapular,    an  ecclesiastical  scarf  or 

short  cloak. 
scathe,  harm,  injury, 
scaur,  a  clifi,  a  precipitous  bank  of 

earth. 
scaur'd,  scared. 
scrae,  a  bank  of  loose  stones, 
scrogg,  a  stunted  tree,  underwood, 
sea-dog,  a  seal, 
selcouth,  strange,  uncouth, 
selle,  a  saddle. 

seneschal,  the  steward  of  a  castle, 
sewer,  an  officer  who  serves  up  a  feast, 
shalm,  a  shawm,  a  musical  instru- 
ment. 
sheeling,  a  shepherd's  hut. 
sheen,  bright,  shining. 
shent,  shamed. 
shirra,  a  sheriff, 
shrieve,  shrive,  absolve, 
shroud,  a  garment,  a  plaid, 
sic,  such, 
siller,  silver. 

skirl,  scream,  sound  shrilly, 
sleights,  tricks,  stratagems, 
slogan,  the  war-cry  or  gathering  word 

of  a  Border  clan, 
snood,  a  maiden's  hair-band  or  fillet, 
soland,  solan-goose,  gannet. 
sooth,  true,  truth, 
sped,  despatched,  'done  for.' 
speer,  speir,  ask. 
speerings,  tidings. 
spell,  make  out,  study  out. 
sperthe,  a  battle-axe. 
springlet,  a  small  spring, 
spule,  a  shoulder. 
spurn,  kick. 
stag  of  ten,  one  having  ten  branches 

on  his  antlers. 
stamock,  the  stomach. 


421 


GLOSSARY 


stance,  a  station. 

stane,  a  stone. 

stark,  stout,  stalwart. 

stern,  a  star. 

sterte,  started. 

stirrup-cup,  a  parting  cup. 

stole,  an  ecclesiastical  scarf  or  robe. 

stoled,  wearing  the  stole. 

store,  stored  up. 

stoun,  stown,  stolen. 

Stour,  severe. 

stowre,  battle,  tumult. 

strain,  stock,  race. 

strath,  a  broad  river-valley, 

strathspey,  a  Highland  dance. 

streight,  strait. 

strook,  struck,  stricken, 

stumah,  faithful. 

Bwith,  haste,  quickly, 

syde,  long. 

syne,  since;  lang  syne,  long  ago. 

tabard,  a  herald's  coat. 

tait,  a  tuft. 

targe,  a  shield. 

tarn,  a  mountain  lake. " 

tartan,  the  full  Highland  dress,  made 

of  the  chequered  stuff  so  termed. 
tett,  a  plait  or  plaited  knot, 
throstle,  a  thrush. 
tide,  time. 
tine,  lose ;  tint,  lost. 
tire,  a  head-dress. 
toom,  empty. 
tottered,  tattered,  ragged, 
toun,  a  town, 
train,  allure,  entice, 
tressure,  a  border  (heraldic), 
trews.  Highland  trousers. 
trine,  threefold,  an  astrological  term, 
tnincheon,  a  staff,  the  shaft  of  a  spear. 
tyke,  a  dog. 
tyne,  lose. 

uncouth,  strange,  unknown, 
uneath,  not  easily,  with  difBcuIty. 
unsparred,  unbarred. 
upsees,  a  Bacchanalian  cry  or  inter- 
jection, borrowed  from  the  Dutch. 
urchin,  an  elf. 


vail,  avail. 

vail,  lower,  let  fall. 

vair,  a  kind  of  fur,  probably  of  the 

squirrel. 

vantage-coign,  an  advantageous  posi- 
tion. 

vaunt-brace,  or  wam-brace,  armour 
for  the  forearm. 

vaward,  van,  front. 

vilde,  vile. 

wad,  would. 

wan,  won. 

Warden-raid,  a  raid  commanded  by 

a  Border  Warden  in  person, 
ware,  beware  of. 
warlock,  a  wizard, 
warped,  frozen, 
warre,  worse. 

warrison,  a  note  of  assault, 
warstle,  wrestle. 

wassail,  spiced  ale,  a  drinking-bout, 
wauk,  wake, 
waiu',  worse. 
weapon-schaw,  a  military  array  of  a 

county,  a  muster. 
weed,  a  garment. 
weird,  fate,  doom, 
whenas,  when. 
whilere,  while-ere,  erewhile,  a  while 

ago. 
whiles,  sometimes. 
whilom,  whilome,  formerly, 
whin,  gorse,  furze, 
whingers,  knives,  poniards, 
whinyard,  a  hunter's  knife, 
wight,  active,  gallant,  war-like, 
wildering,  bewildering, 
wimple,  a  veil. 
woe-worth,  woe  be  to. 
woned,  dwelt. 

wraith,  an  apparition,  a  spectre. 
wreak,  avenge, 
wud,  would. 
wuddie,  the  gallows. 

yare,  ready, 
yate,  a  gate. 
yerk,  jerk. 
yode,  went. 


CAMBRIDGE  .  MASSACHUSETTS 
U   .   S   .  A 


THE  LIBRARY 
UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 

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